When Michael Met Eric
by megelizabethvh88
Summary: The year is 1969, and two twentysome year old men meet randomly every five years. Eventually they decide to become friends. Based on When Harry Met Sally. SLASH. M for Mature just to be sure.
1. Chapter One

A/N: This is just a warning that the story you're about to read contains mature content. It is rated so for language and strong sexuality. These are things that I feel are in everyday life and because it is in everyday life, it shouldn't be excluded from what we read. Also, I like to put these "characters" (who are actually real life people) and put them in this "everyone/most everyone is gay" universe, or the "the six members of Monty Python and their lovers are gay and sometimes they don't have wives or children" universe that I really, really like. This warning was written for you, the reader, to be prepared for what your eyes may seek, and thank you for taking the time to read my stories. So if you don't like it, then get the hell out of here.

Sincerely, the author

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><p><em>It was after the war. A few friends and I went to a dance club on Saturday night. We get in there, have a few drinks, and they start goofing around with a few girls. I look across the room and I see this tall, long legged beauty with her friends, and she's looking at <em>_**me**__. For the rest of the night, every time I look at her, she's still looking at me. My friends and I leave and the next Saturday, we got back to the same dance club, and they're there again. So I go up to her and ask her to dance, she says okay, and we get married one year later to the day._

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><p>The rainfall outside was so heavy that Wednesday morning that traffic was held up for miles, and most people thought they would need boats just to cross the street. One of those people was Michael, who was running late due to not being able to get through town easily. When he finally arrived at the tall gray building, he ran inside and almost pushed over a couple of business suited men to take the elevator, which seemed to lift as slow as molasses in January. The door opened and he stumbled directly into a line of twenty-some year old men. The thing about being late meant that he wouldn't get to audition until much later. "Is there any chance that I'll be in sometime before lunch?" he asked the man in front of him.<p>

"You'll just have to wait and see," the man replied. "Hope you brought something to read."

Michael groaned and took out his screenplay from his jacket pocket, knowing that he had time to kill since the weather had delayed his arrival. As he began to read, he felt his eyes looking up at the line of men. They were all there for the same job, the same role, and he could lose it to any one of them. One of these idiots! And the elevator doors opened behind him, and here came another one of them. This one was a skinny, tall figure, who had his girlfriend with him, dressed as if she was going to make her daily wages on the street corner. "Good luck, darling," she said in a soft whisper to him. "But I know you won't need it,"

"Thanks anyway," he told her, and wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her so hard and so wet that he could clean down to her stomach with his tongue.

"I love you," she told him when they finally broke apart.

"I love you," he told her, and waved back at her as the elevator doors closed. He then turned around and made his way to the end of the line, where Michael was standing, and crossed his arms with a deep exhale.

That wasn't what bothered Michael, nor the fact that this man was standing very closely behind him, or that he started to clearly try reading over his shoulder. But it was that he started humming under his breath, lightly playing his fingers on his elbows along with the tune, and then, he started tapping his foot on the carpet. It was that sort of insistent twitchiness and edge that irritated Michael, who was able to contain himself a little better. He glanced casually over his shoulder at the man, who nodded and smiled energetically at him. Michael smiled back carelessly and turned his focus back to his paper, until he heard the man say something. "What was that?" Michael turned back to the man.

"I said that was my girlfriend," the man told him.

"…Oh," Michael's eyes drifted back to his screenplay.

"She's from Australia," the man continued, which made Michael sigh impatiently. "We've been together for a few years. We're actually engaged and I think we'll be getting married sometime this year,"

Really, Michael didn't care, but being rude wasn't part of his way. "Congratulations."

The man put his hand out in front of Michael's face. "I'm Eric, by the way. I figure we should get to know each other, since we'll be here for awhile,"

"Michael," was the reply and their hands shook.

A brief pause made him think that they were done talking, but he was wrong, as Eric just kept going. "What about you? Got a girl?"

"Yes, I do," he stated briefly, deciding that he would keep all of his answers short and maybe Eric would realize that he wanted to read in silence, but Eric looked so intrigued with the conversation that he knew it was far from over. "Her name is Helen. We've been married for three years,"

"Very nice," Eric replied. "Got any kids?"

"We've talked about it, but none right now. How about you and…?" Michael realized that he didn't even know the girl.

Eric volunteered the answer. "Lyn. That's also been considered, but she wants to work on her career for awhile. She's an actress too, you know,"

Michael snorted. "Then she should know to not say 'good luck' to an actor, shouldn't she? I mean, she completely jinxed you from getting the part. You should probably just go home now,"

"Oh, very funny," Eric said. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To have one more man out of the ring, right?"

"Well, she did. If she really wanted you to do well, then she shouldn't have said 'good luck' to you," Michael was then hushed by the other men in line with them. "See? Even they don't want to hear it,"

The man in front of them turned around and gave the dirtiest glare he could manage. "Would you two shut up? Some of us are trying to read our audition pieces and prepare ourselves,"

Eric shrugged. "Who's stopping you?"

Eyes rolled and muttered words were flung in their direction, and the man turned forward again. "Maybe we should get back to reading ours," Michael held up his papers. "You know, just to prepare."

"Oh, right," Eric nodded. "The problem is that I don't have one. Can I read off of yours?"

This wasn't going the way Michael had envisioned it. He had planned to be on time at the audition, step right into the room and show them how right he was for the part and then drive back home and have great sex with his wife. Instead, he was late, there were now at least fifteen men in front of him auditioning for the exact same part, and some jinxed dork was behind him, blabbing on and on about nothing in particular. _And_ more than likely, Helen would be gone by the time he got back as she had appointments and shopping planned for the day. "Here," he handed the papers to Eric, his voice sounded disgruntled. "I've got most of it memorized. I'll just make up whatever I don't know,"

Eric looked over the stapled papers, folding them awkwardly and it made Michael cringe so he turned away. He hated awkwardly folded things, including dog eared book pages and crinkled letters in envelopes, and clothes that were jammed into drawers without being straightened. "Where did you find this?" Eric asked.

"Actually, I wrote it," Michael said.

"Really? It's very good, smartly written," Eric went through a few more pages. "So why are you auditioning for a show where the material is already written when you could be writing your own things?"

"Now who's trying to get another man out of the ring?" Michael replied.

The man in front of them turned around again. "Can you two stuff it already? I can't concentrate,"

Both Eric and Michael turned to face him. "We're having a serious conversation here, so if you don't mind, why don't _you_ stuff it?" Eric said, just as irritated, then went back to the conversation he was having with Michael. "I'm not trying to get anyone out of anything. I'm just asking because this isn't half bad, and you should be taking your good work to somewhere that it can be appreciated,"

"To be honest, they asked me to write my own material," was the admitted response. "One of the producers saw me in a play I wrote and acted in earlier this year, and he personally called me and asked me to write something and read it for the others,"

"Then why did you let me read this?" Eric smacked the screenplay against Michael's chest and to his dismay, it crinkled more. "How dumb is it going to sound if I go in there after you and read it? They'll kick me out after the first word,"

Michael shrugged. "You were the one trying to steal it from me. I believe that's called…_plagiarism_, correct?"

Eric shook his head. "It's not plagiarism unless I wrote it down and said it was my own. But you have to admit it would seem weird. And I don't plan on staying in prison here for plagiarism, as I'm getting this role and getting out of London to better cities. Right now, I'm thinking about Paris,"

"Ugh. All those snails," Michael scrunched his face in disgust.

"I'm not going for the escar_got_," Eric rolled his eyes. "It's just a suggestion. I'll go anywhere that will star me in a great film or play. I promise, one day, you'll hear about me. And who knows? Maybe one day, you'll like snails,"

"Yes, and maybe one day, when I'm old, I'll travel the world in eighty days," Michael replied. "But that's right after pigs fly and the Loch Ness Monster crawls out and takes the Queen for a swim,"

Disbelief crossed Eric's face. "You don't believe in the Loch Ness Monster? How can that be?"

"Oh, please, Eric, are you a schoolboy? How can you believe that?" Michael faced forward. "You probably believe in unicorns too,"

Eric snatched the screenplay out of Michael's hand as revenge and began to read again, still with disbelief on his face. "At least I believe in something, whether its unicorns or the Loch Ness Monster or God or myself, and I completely believe that I will get this part,"

Michael took the screenplay back and began to straighten the crinkles in the pages. "And what happens if you don't get it?"

"Then I'll walk in traffic," Eric responded, laughing at Michael's startled look. "I'm just teasing you. I'll move on if I don't get the part. I'll get married and find a new show or something to audition for. As long as I'm not sitting around waiting for my life to fall into my lap,"

"You make it sound so easy either way. You make it sound as if there are auditions every day for different shows and you can get in one of them just like that,"

"Well, I am one of the better actors in this city, you know," Eric then began to count off with his fingers and named several different shows he had been in. He looked so smug when he finished. "What's on your resume?" he asked Michael.

A few of the men before them were turned around to listen to the conversation, and Michael was becoming irritated with the superior attitude of the man he was conversing with. "Just because I haven't been in as many shows as you doesn't mean that you're better than me. I can get into any show that I want, not just because of my acting, but because of my writing skills. What if you break your back and can't walk anymore or you become paralyzed and can't act? You don't write, so what do you have to show for yourself then?"

Silence was the response, as well as a cross look on Eric's face for being shot down the way he had been. "I wasn't saying that I was better," he finally said, and turned away to avoid Michael's eye line.

Michael felt bad then. "I'm sorry," he admitted, but Eric didn't turn to him again. Michael glanced forward, and all the men before him did as well, acting as nonchalant as possible to avoid a fight as well. He reopened his screenplay, but didn't feel like reading his own work now. He just needed to relax his mind or else he'd forget everything that he had memorized –

"You realize of course that we can't be friends," Eric finally said, breaking the silence.

Michael glanced at him. "Is that because of what I said?"

Eric gestured to the screenplay in Michael's hand. "The reason we can't be friends is because we're competing for the same role. And if this is the first one, then there will be more for us to fight over. We can't spend the rest of our lives being friends and enemies at the same time,"

"Well, that's too bad. I don't have any friends in the same business with me, and I thought it would be nice to have someone to talk to about auditions and shows to be in," Michael said in a quiet voice.

The door opened and one of the producers came out, muttering under his breath in a disgruntled tone. As he made his way down the hallway through all the men auditioning, he glanced at all of them with irritation, but stopped when he saw Michael. "There you are! I was wondering when you'd get here,"

"I've been here for awhile," Michael replied, holding out his screenplay. "Here's my work, if you want to look it over before we go in,"

"Take it in yourself," the producer gestured to the door. "Let's go on in. I'd like to show them what you've got,"

He turned back to the door and as he walked away, Michael glanced at Eric over his shoulder. "Well, I guess this is it," he said.

"Yeah…lucky you knowing the right people so you can get ahead of the rest of us," Eric replied, then started to wish him good luck, but remembered the words and stopped. "Have a nice audition…and a nice life,"

"You too," Michael said. They paused for a moment, then extended their arms towards the other and shook hands before Michael went into the room, where he unrolled his crinkled screenplay and presented it to the producers to begin his audition.


	2. Chapter Two

_I had been seeing a man for a short period of time and I became pregnant. He says to me 'let's move to London and we'll get married. You go ahead and I'll get my paycheck and meet you there'. So I go and get an apartment with my money, and needless to say, he never shows up. I stay there so I can have a home to raise the baby in, and I keep getting bigger and bigger. One day, I go to the mailbox to check my mail and there's a man at his mailbox. We start to talk and finally, I say to him 'you want to get married and have this baby with me' and he says 'sure'. We get married at the courthouse and have the baby…and here we are. We're still together._

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><p>FIVE YEARS LATER – 1974<p>

As the small car pulled up to the curb in front of the building, inside was Michael, who was thinking about his successful career. He was an actor – not just on stage, but on television and had been staring and also writing on a television show for the past five years. He had scored a role in the audition that he had attended that rainy day, and was making enough money for him and his wife to live in a nice house, they each had a nice car, and two…cats. However, the show was cancelled during the spring five years later and the last episode was aired in the end of May. He was going to an audition and had Helen drive him, as his car was in the shop. "Thank you for the ride," he told her.

"You'll be great in there. Break a leg, darling," she smiled cheerfully at him, and leaned over to kiss him goodbye.

"I still can't believe it…five years…I'm kind of glad, actually," he told her. "I needed something new. The same character, everyday, the same actors, directors…this will be great,"

Helen nodded in agreement, but then her eyesight was distracted when she saw a tall, thin, light haired woman standing next to the car looking inside. "Who is that?" Helen asked.

Michael shrugged. "I have no idea," he reached for the handle to roll down the window, and leaned over to speak to the woman. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

The woman pointed to Helen. "Is that Helen Gibbins in there?"

Helen leaned over Michael's lap towards the window. "Lyn?"

"It is you!" the woman shrieked, and they both began to scream excitedly, scaring the piss out of Michael. Helen crawled over his lap and opened his door, stumbling out and into the woman's arms, where they hugged and continued to scream excitedly on the sidewalk. "How long has it been? Is it eight or nine years?"

"I think nine," Helen told her, then turned to her husband. "Michael, this is Lyn. We use to waitress together at the restaurant below the bank. I can't believe you're still in town! What have you been doing?"

Lyn gestured to a man down the street, buying a newspaper from the vendor. "My husband has an audition with the studio, so I'm dropping him off,"

Helen laughed. "That's so funny, because Michael does too,"

They were joined by the tall, thin, light haired man and when he removed his sunglasses, Michael immediately recognized him – it was Eric, from the auditions five years ago. He couldn't believe he was seeing him again. After all, this man had told stories of moving out of London and traveling to bigger, better cities and starring in all sorts of movies and plays around the world. Yet, here he was – standing not more than five feet away from Michael's car. "Sweetheart, this is Helen, a friend of mine from a job a few years ago. This is my husband, Eric," Lyn introduced.

Helen eagerly extended her hand as she was always the perfect greeter. "My pleasure," she shook Eric's hand. "And this is my husband, Michael. Lyn said that you have an audition today, and it's the same one Michael has,"

"Small world, isn't it?" Eric commented. "Well, Michael, I'll see you inside. Lyn –" he turned to his wife. "You want to walk me in? Nice to meet you, Helen,"

"Helen, I'll get your phone number from Michael, and we'll get together sometime soon," Lyn called over her shoulder as they went inside.

When the doors closed, Michael sighed to himself. "Thank God he didn't recognize me. I auditioned with that man five years ago for the same role and I had to stand in line with him, and he kept talking and talking and talking,"

Helen looked confused. "Talking about what?"

"I don't even remember. It was years ago," Michael opened his door and looked to his wife. "Wish me luck,"

"You don't need it," Helen smiled, and kissed him one more time before he stepped out of the car and went inside.

This audition room was set up much nice than the previous audition five years ago, as there wasn't a tiny hallway for everyone to fill. Instead, rows of chairs filled the room and Michael chose his empty seat from the third row, near the end between a redheaded man and a round woman. His screenplay was folded carefully in his jacket pocket, and he took it out to read, although he had it memorized the week before with help from Helen. She really was good help, telling him what she thought of what line and how she thought he should say it, and – "Didn't we have an audition together five years ago?" Eric's voice suddenly went off from behind Michael.

With an aggravated sigh, Michael shoved his papers back into his jacket pocket without folding it as carefully as it had been before, knowing exactly how this would go. "Yes, for the television show. I got the role for – "

Eric snorted from between the seats. "Well, clearly you got the role on the show, or else I would have been on there and it wouldn't have gotten cancelled. I guess you were right about Lyn jinxing me for the part. We talked about it when I got home that night, and she realized what she had said. But she made up for it later," he winked at Michael, who groaned under his breath.

The woman who was sitting next to Michael glanced back and forth between them, unsure of these two men. "We were at the same audition five years ago," he explained.

"Oh," she nodded with an uninterested smile on her face. "Well, then I suppose you two would like to catch up then and stop bothering me. Would you like to sit together?"

"Yes, that would be great," Eric said quickly before Michael could protest, and he switched seats with the woman, who quickly settled into the seat behind them and was eager to not be part of their discussion. "Much better now that I won't have to twist my neck around the chair to talk. So what was I saying? Oh, right…I'm not a jinx. Tell me about the show,"

"You better not be a jinx, or you'll have a mob after you. If any of the others here don't get a part in the show, they'll be looking for you," Michael replied. "And you better not jinx me. After five years…_Christ_. I was on a role for _five years_, in the same show, and doing so well…and what do they do? They cancel the bloody show and now I'm out of a job. At least I have that on my resume,"

Eric tsked. "I've been doing plays and a few movie bits for the past five years, thanks to your brilliant screenplay that you took in with you. Did you ever do anything else with writing?"

The man to Michael's left turned to them. "Can you two keep it down? I'm trying – "

"You're going to just want to move to another seat because this isn't going to go your way at all," Michael warned him, then looked back at Eric. "I've just wrote for the show. I'm really hoping to get a role with this and maybe something will take off. We're planning on re-doing the kitchen and that's – "

Eric interrupted by gesturing to Michael's screenplay. "Now that's not the same one from five years ago, isn't it?"

Michael glanced down at the papers. "Oh, no, of course not. It's something completely new that I wrote a couple of weeks ago,"

"Oh, well, fuck me," Eric groaned. "I might as well just leave then,"

"What, why? Where do you think you're going?" Michael demanded as Eric started out of his seat.

"You and your bullshit writing got you the last job, and it will probably happen again. I might as well just leave now instead of going through the whole audition process and then waiting around for weeks to not hear anything,"

Eric gathered his jacket and turned back to see Michael rolling his eyes. "You know you're full of shit, right?" he asked his companion, making a face of skepticism.

"You know your face could stick like that, right?"

"Then maybe you'd get more parts because I'd be too ugly for them,"

Eric scoffed. "You're absurd, you know? I'm very good at what I do. Haven't you ever heard of finding what you're good at and doing it? This is my thing,"

Michael extended his hand towards Eric, his palm facing upwards. "Well, let's see your work, and maybe I can give you some pointers. After all, I am – "

A glare was shot back at him, just as fast as the papers were shoved into his hand. "_Ha._ _Ha_."

As expected, the papers were folded awkwardly and had been shoved into their owners' pocket early that morning. Michael found the urge to lecture Eric on the importance of keeping papers neat and tidy, but he clenched his jaw and smoothed the papers over his knee. "Where did you get this from?" he asked as he started reading.

"Actually, I took a page out of your book, and I wrote my own," Eric told him, sitting back down and he waited for Michael to read a bit more. "So what do you think?" he asked when the first page was turned.

"It's not half bad," Michael replied. "I mean, it's alright. You could – "

Eric snatched up his screenplay out of Michael's grasp. "I didn't ask your opinion on what I need to do," he folded it huffily and Michael cringed at the sound of crinkly papers. "Think you're a critic, do you?"

"Well, I _did_ write for a show I starred in for five years," Michael reminded him.

"Smug bastard," Eric frowned. "Cocky…"

"Hey, let's not bring those into this," Michael said in a warning voice.

Eric couldn't help but tease. "Ah, are you ashamed of yours? Or are you just ashamed of how it performs?" he leaned closer to Michael, who leaned away a bit. "How many girls have you been with?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Michael could see others in the room turning their heads to look at the debaters – some were nonchalant, some were not so easy to hide. "How many have _you_ been with?"

A tsking noise came from Eric. "I asked you first,"

Michael sighed. "Alright. Three."

"Three? That's all?"

This was becoming uncomfortable for Michael, feeling disappointed with his number. Sure, it wasn't a lot, but it didn't seem awful. In fact, he liked his number – at least it wasn't just plain one, or zero, which was worse. "That's all? What do you mean _that's all_? How many have you been with?"

"Six and a half," Eric said. He then saw Michael give him a look that clearly asked what the half was and he laughed. "She wasn't a dwarf, if that's what you're thinking. That one started to have a nosebleed during her orgasm so we stopped and she went home because it kind of killed the mood. So that makes her half a fuck. See?"

Michael gave him a look. "A girl had an orgasm so hard that she had a nosebleed?"

Eric shrugged. "What can I say? I'm just that good,"

"You have to be making that up because that's impossible,"

"What does? That her nose bled or she came so hard?" There was disbelief in Eric's eyes as he literally turned himself in his seat to face his debate partner, and it pleased Michael. "Are you trying to say that I'm incapable of making a woman have an orgasm? Because I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of great sex,"

"That's great. I'm glad that you're so confident in yourself," Michael replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

The words and tone of his voice were leading Eric to believe this was some sort of challenge. "What about you?" he perused the conversation. "Who have you had great sex with? And don't say your wife because _of course_ you have great sex with her. I have great sex with Lyn, but I didn't start out being so good in the sack. Every man has to practice and we get one girl that makes us realize how good we are. Mine was Samantha Peters, _my_ third one, and she use to have two or three orgasms right on top of each other. It was kind of cute, actually, she would grab her hair with her fists and she use to put her feet at my hips and her toes would curl into my skin and – "

"Jane Wajakawakawitz," Michael interrupted

Confused, Eric paused. "_Wajakawakawitz?_ Well, what kind of name is _that_? Was that the first or second girl?"

"She's the second girl. I gave her the first orgasm she ever had,"

Eric snorted. "Did she tell you that? Oh, Michael…you can't have great sex with someone with a name like…_Jane_ _Wajakawakawitz_."

"I think I would know if I'm having great sex or not. And not that it matters, because this is stupid, but why wouldn't I be able to have great sex with a girl with a name like that?"

"_Jane Wajakawakawitz_ is a girl who is the librarian with ugly glasses that puts all the books away. _Jane Wajakawakawitz_ is a girl who is the secretary at the doctor's office. _Jane Wajakawakawitz_ is the waitress who takes your breakfast order at the diner at 11th Street. But for the sex that proves you to be a man…no, I don't think so,"

"I disagree. I don't think the name is very important. Besides, I know plenty of men who had sexual fantasies about secretaries or librarians. And there is a very attractive waitress at the diner on 11th St, and we are both married to women who were formerly waitresses,"

Michael could tell that his calm attitude was bothering Eric, who was eager to win the debate. What was stranger, though, was that Michael was also eager to continue the debate. "Well, anyway…" Eric said in an unenthusiastic voice. It signaled the end of the conversation, and it thwarted Michael. "So you think my writing is okay?"

Michael glanced at the papers then back to Eric. "Yeah, in fact, I think it's great,"

"Really? I hear this one – _Outside the Box_ or something – is supposed to be very superior in the lines and such. I'd like to be somewhere in the range of superiority when they see my writing."

"Really, it's great. I think very superior."

The door opened and a brunette with glasses stuck her head in. "Eric?"

"Well, it looks like it's my turn," Eric stood up. He collected his papers and coat, then turned back to Michael. "Nice to see you again, Mike. You want to go have lunch after our auditions – you and me and our wives?"

Michael made a face as if he were thinking. "I thought us socializing together outside of auditions made us friends, and we couldn't have that,"

Eric groaned. "You're right, I forgot. Well, just forget about it then,"

"Eric, I wasn't serious – "

"I know. But you have your life and I have mine. We'll just see each other when we see each other,"

Michael shrugged. "Alright, suit yourself," he extended his hand to shake Eric's. "Have a good audition,"

Eric shook his hand back. "You too."


	3. Chapter Three

_A girl I was friends with invited me to a Halloween party she was having. I brought two friends with me and we dressed up – I was the bride of Frankenstein, one of my friends was Frankenstein, and the other was the Grim Reaper. We went to the party and I saw this man, talking with his friend, and I thought he was very cute. But I couldn't really talk to him because I was so shy, so I ended up leaving the party without talking to him. About a month later, I went to eat dinner with the girl friend and she said she invited a couple of guys to eat with us, and who would be one of the two guys but him? So we talk, we get each other's phone numbers, and we started going out on New Year's Eve._

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><p>FIVE YEARS LATER – 1979<p>

"So how was your date last night?" Michael asked his friend Terry J, holding the door open for him and their other friend, Terry G, as they went into the bookstore.

Terry J groaned. "It was terrible. She talked the whole time about everything and anything and nothing all at the same time. She chewed with her mouth open the whole night and dressed horribly. Her blouse and skirt didn't match at all, and she made me take her dancing and she stepped on my feet the whole night. She hadn't even heard of any of the papers I write for, and when I tried to explain them to her, she still didn't understand. _Oh_…" he sighed. "Why can't I meet any normal, single women?"

"Because there's no such thing," Terry G told him, picking up a book and turning it over to read the description. "Not a single woman I have ever known was normal, not even my mother or my sister. There's something about them that is insane,"

"Did I tell you about Delilah?" Terry J interrupted. "I went to her desk while she was in the bathroom yesterday, and I found her credit card bill – "

Michael interrupted. "Wait, what do you mean you found it?"

There was a pause. "Well, it was in her purse on her desk, but that's not the point. You know what I found on her bill? She spent almost two hundred pounds on lingerie at the store on 4th Street. _Two hundred pounds_." he sighed quietly. "I don't think she's ever going to leave her husband,"

"Terry, no one thinks she's going to leave him," Terry G said plainly. "Just be patient, alright? After all, you're only thirty-seven. You have plenty of time to find someone,"

"Exactly, I'm thirty-seven. I'm getting to the midlife crisis part of my life. I should be buying expensive cars and having affairs, but I can't even get one woman to go out with me," Terry picked up a book from the dusty shelves. "What kind of book are you looking for, Mike?"

Michael was grazing by the relationship section. "I don't even know what to look for. I just want something different to read,"

Terry G looked at the cover of the book around Michael's shoulder. "Why do you need a relationship book? You've been married to Helen for ten years, and you two are perfect."

"Helen and I filed for divorce," Michael told them stiffly.

A thud came from where Terry J was, as he had dropped his enormous book in confusion, and both Terrys swarmed Michael quickly, nearly shoving him into the bookshelf. "What?" Terry J asked.

"When did this happen?" the other Terry inquired.

"Two Thursdays ago," Michael said.

"You've known for two weeks that you were getting divorced and you're just now telling us?" Terry G demanded.

Michael sighed. "I just wanted some time to get over it. I mean, I'm still not…I'm definitely not, but I wanted to get to a comfortable point with the fact that seventeen years of my life are going down the drain, that the only woman I've ever been in love with is leaving me, and that I'm losing my house. And my cats…I'm sure she'll get the cats,"

Terry J pulled a small notebook and pen out of his jacket pocket, flipped the book open, and wrote in there: "_Helen_…_Gibbins_…_single_…"

"Did you _really_ just do that?" Terry G groaned. "They're just now getting divorced. You can't start going out with your friend's wife before it's even legalized,"

"I am _not_ trying to," Terry J defended himself. "I'm just putting it in there, so if someone asks if I know any single ladies, they can know she's available. And don't you worry. Mike's going on the single list too. Hey, you're not with anyone, why don't you two get together?"

Terry G rolled his eyes. "Who in that stupid notebook list do you think you're going to set him up with?"

Quickly, Terry J skimmed through the notebook until he found a name. "What about Eloise Riddle?"

Michael gave him a disgruntled look. "She's been married for over a year now,"

"Really?" Terry J tsked, writing on the page. "_Married_…"

With a sigh of exasperation, Michael turned away from his friends and moved towards the biographies. He knew that this wasn't the best way to explain his recent divorce, but it had been building up in his mind all day and he needed to tell them eventually. "It doesn't matter anyway. She left me," he told himself, scanning the titles of the spines of biographies of the historical British figures. "I'm thirty-six years old and I'm in some great movies, plays, and I had a successful career in a television program for five years. I am smart, funny, very handsome, good at sex, and I like animals. I probably shouldn't have said those last two so close together, but it doesn't matter because I'm a great person and I can move on from this,"

"Hey, Mike," Terry G nudged his arm, then gestured to across the wide carpeted room. "There's a man over there staring at you."

Surprised, Michael looked up to see a pair of eyes peering at him through the wooden bookshelves, just over the top of the faded covers and the aging orange pages. It wasn't until the person moved around the structure that he recognized them. "Oh, God," he muttered, his shoulders sinking as he relaxed.

Terry J pushed forward. "Who is it?" he whispered.

"His name is Eric. Every time I go to an audition, he's there auditioning for the same part," Michael explained. "He's married to a girl that use to waitress with Helen. You two haven't met him because I only see him every five years for one day. I wonder where we'll meet next time,"

"Well, now's the time to introduce him to us. Bring him over," Terry J said. "Maybe he knows some single women for you,"

Michael handed his book off and walked across the room, where his acquaintance was waiting for him. "Hi, Eric,"

It didn't appear that way from across the room, but up close, Eric was looking rather tired and as if he was on the edge of an emotional state. "Hi, Michael," Eric said dully. "How are you? What's it been, five years?"

"It's something like that," Michael leaned against the bookshelf. "What have you been doing? How are you and Lyn?"

Eric traced his finger around the edge of the book he was holding, then shoved it back onto the shelf as he spoke. "Oh, we got separated last year, and the divorce was finalized a couple weeks ago. She moved back to Australia,"

_Finally, someone who can understand what I'm going through!_ Michael thought to himself, keeping his face as understanding as possible to the situation. "I had no idea that was going on with you,"

"Well, we haven't talked in five years so I guess you wouldn't know," Eric shrugged, his eyes moving to the floor. "It's been kind of hard, but I finally moved on. I have my own place and I've been doing some acting. At least I got the cat," he said the last part in a joking tone.

_Oh God!_ Michael thought seriously, wanting to cry at the thought of not having his cats in his new place. Probably some stupid, little apartment downtown, he would more than likely have run down furniture and barely any food…oh, who was he kidding? He made enough money to have a nice apartment with good furniture – he'd claim the kitchen table and chairs, for the oak wood, and the very nice dish set – "What are you doing right now?"

Eric looked around the book store, as if searching for something to do, then back to Michael. "Nothing. Want to go get coffee?"

"Sure. Let me get – " Michael turned around to let his friends know of the change of plans, but they were nowhere in sight. That was when he saw the back of Terry G's jacket disappearing out the front door, and the Terrys were passing the window to go down the sidewalk, looking as if they had forgotten about him. "Alright…well, let's go,"

"Great. So tell me about what happened with you and Helen."

* * *

><p>"About a year ago, we went to dinner with her friend Wendy and her husband," Michael started to explain as they were sitting at a table in the coffee shop. "Afterwards, we went back to their house for drinks, and the baby-sitter left and we were all sitting in the kitchen. Except for Helen, she was playing with the kids. They have two girls – Beatrice is three, and Paulette is one…and they're playing, and Helen's holding Beatrice and she looks<em>incredibly<em> happy to be holding this little girl in her arms. And Beatrice keeps bringing her toys in there and putting them on Helen's lap and is kissing her cheek. And on the way home, Helen tells me that she'll never have her own children. And I told her that even though I also want children, we're so lucky to not have any because we have so much freedom and we can fly off to Mexico at any time, or have sex anywhere in the house, or even sell the house and buy a new one and not have to worry about any children and their psychological beings. And she says that if she can't have the one thing she's always wanted and if I can't give it to her, then she doesn't want to be with me anymore. Just like that…because she's always wanted to have a family, and I can't give her that,"

"You've tried to have children?" Eric questioned.

"After we had been married for a few years, we started trying. There weren't any results, so we went to have us both looked at," Michael glanced down at his hands, which were latched together on the table. "I'm…sterile."

Eric paused to digest the information he had just received. "And you two never flew off to Mexico at any time?"

Michael shook his head. "And the part about selling the house? Yeah, we lived in the same one level, three bedrooms house for ten years."

"Lyn came home a year and a half ago and said 'I don't know if I want to be married anymore'," Eric started his version. "So I said 'okay let's take a few days to think about it, and then we'll get back to each other'. So I got a hotel room, got very, very drunk for the next three nights, and called her. No answer, so I went home because I needed clothes. And she's at home and there's another guy there, but she tells me that he is someone from the next play she's doing and they're going over lines. This seems normal because she has people over all the time, but it's very weird so we go outside and I ask her if she's thought about being married. She says that she wants a separation, and I asked her if she's dating the guy in the kitchen, she says no. So I asked her if she is still in love with me and she says 'of course, I've always loved you' and I said 'are you _still_ in love with me' and that's when the doorbell rings. I answer the door, and there's a moving truck in front of the house, and the driver is asking if we can move our cars to make room for the truck,"

"That's awful," Michael told him.

Eric laughed sarcastically. "The best part…she called the movers one week before she said she didn't want to be married anymore,"

"You sound like you're doing well. What are you doing to keep your mind off of this?"

"I've been working on a few different things, but right now, I'm just…taking time off. Honestly, that might just be the best for both of us right now…maybe we can meet at auditions again,"

They both laughed and sipped the last of their coffee, and Eric started tapping his fingers on the tablecloth to the same song he had enjoyed the very first time they met. Finally, Michael cleared his throat and admitted his thoughts. "I didn't like you when we first met,"

"I know. I didn't really like you either, you were very unsocial," Eric shot back, resting his elbow on the edge of the table and placing his chin in his hand. "And you still didn't like me the second time we met,"

Michael sighed. "Well, you just kept annoying everyone at the auditions. You were being _too_ social and everyone just wanted to read their work,"

"Why _not_ create our own work verbally and turn it into monologues? Wouldn't that make us better actors?"

"See, that's why people think you're annoying."

Eric gave him a look that softened with his next comment. "I think we should have dinner sometime this week. You know, together, not by ourselves,"

It was an idea that Michael considered. "If we eat together, are we becoming friends?"

"Scary, isn't it?" Eric grimaced.

"I suppose it could be worse. It's not like we're dating,"

"Exactly. Although, and this is not a come on in any way, shape or form…you're attractive enough that we could date. I might even sleep with you,"

Michael paused. "Thank you?" he tried.

Another pause. "And…?" Eric asked, waiting for a response that said the same thing.

"Oh, right. You look good too,"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks. Don't force yourself to say that or anything. At least I won't have to worry about you having some weird sexual fantasy about me," he gestured to the waiter that they were ready for their cups to be refilled. When he looked back at Michael, he appeared to be grimacing at a thought. "Oh, you haven't…"

"…I may have…a sexual fantasy…not involving you, of course. But I can't talk about it,"

"One, everyone has a sexual fantasy. And two, you have to tell me since you said that."

Michael groaned, putting his hand over his face. "I can't talk about it," he slid his hand down to cover his mouth and saw that Eric was staring at him, a look on his face that he intended to hear the story. "It's the same sexual fantasy I've had since I was twelve, ever since I went to a friend's house and saw his mother's and sister's items hanging on the laundry line. Really warm day out and the wind was blowing everything, and his sister was lying out," he paused. "There's this woman – "

Eric nodded. "Okay, a woman. What does she look like? It's the sister, isn't it?"

"Well, I don't see her face, and she never talks to me, so I don't think it's the sister," Michael continued, putting his hands up in fists as if gripping the collar of clothing. "…She rips off my clothes…" he pulled his hands apart.

"A faceless, nameless woman rips off your clothes…okay, not bad. Then what?" Eric pushed for details.

Michael's hands relaxed and he shrugged slightly. "That's it. She rips my clothes off and that's the sexual fantasy I've had forever that keeps me going through the night,"

Sitting back in his chair, Eric paused to consider the story. "The same thing? For twenty-four years? How strange that you haven't gone insane from such good orgasms while thinking about this girl!"

"I know, it's pathetic!" Michael's hand went back over his face and he turned away shyly, then faced forward again and sighed. "Let's have dinner sometime."


	4. Chapter Four

_I was not looking for a relationship at all. I just went on a double date to keep a friend protected in case the man was crazy. He brought one of his friends along with him, who was…not bad looking, I suppose. And I think they were trying to set us up as well, but we just didn't connect, and I don't think it helped that I told him that I wanted to be a hooker, so we all parted ways. About thirteen years later, I'm working at a restaurant and I'm on the phone with this girl. In walks this man and he's has this thick beautiful beard and wearing these biker chaps and he just looked so good. And I said to my friend 'I have to go, I see something I want' and I hung up the phone to go talk to him. And it turns out he's the man from the date that they were trying to set me up with._

* * *

><p>The friendship started off as normally as one would think. They started having dinners together and Michael would call Eric go places, Eric would invite Michael over to his place and they would endure long hours of wine and board games, sometimes running errands with the other. Secretly they both began to wonder why they hadn't started this friendship when they first met, as they had a lot in common and got along very well. They both even had tapes of auditions and plays and a secrets stash of written work. And they really liked early lunch…"I was thinking about lunch on 14th St. I know it's a bit out of the way, but I've heard good things,"<p>

"Sure," Eric replied, his tone depressed. "What time?"

"I was thinking in an hour. What's wrong?"

A heavy sigh echoed through the phone. "I miss Lyn,"

"No, you don't. You miss the idea of being with her."

"_No_, I miss her. I found one of her shirts in the closet and it just started a whole lot of memories. We weren't so bad off, you know…she just stopped caring…how are you dealing?"

"Alright, I suppose. I try not to think about Helen even though it feels like we're still together and it's hard to not think about her. Sometimes she calls me to ask questions about the house and where we keep the spare light bulbs and things like that."

"Do you still sleep on one side of the bed?"

"For awhile I did, but I've been trying to stay in the middle. Sometimes it feels cold in the middle, like we're sleeping on our two sides so I end up back on my side. Or the cat is already in the middle of the bed and I don't want to push him away, but sometimes I do _or_ I stay on my side,"

Another sigh. "God, that's great. I wish I could move on the way you do. Yesterday I was cleaning the bathroom and I found an almost empty bottle of her perfume. I practically drank it so I could feel like she was still here,"

"Pathetic. Come on, let's go have lunch and I'll try to help get her off your mind,"

"That sounds good. Do you want to meet there or do you need a ride?"

"Come pick me up. I'm going to take a shower, so I'll leave the key under the mat for you,"

"Okay. I'll be there soon," Eric hung up the phone and prepared for the outing. He began to wonder if he was being a burden on Michael with his relationship nonsense. How could he ever get over Lyn if he thought about her all the time, craved to have her in his life? When he gathered his things, he wondered if there were more secrets that Michael held to handle divorce. Nevertheless, he sucked up his feelings and went to eat with Michael that day, and they didn't talk about either Helen or Lyn. The thing was, they were two single men, yet it still felt like these two women controlled their lives somehow and they were unable to escape Eric and Michael's conversations.

"See that alley between the pet store and the cheese shop? Yeah, Helen and I did it in there once."

"Lyn loves to go to those roadside pottery stands."

"I hate popcorn because it always gets stuck in my teeth, but Helen likes it, so I have to eat half a bucket when we go to the movies and spent the rest of the night picking the stupid crap out."

"I don't like popcorn either."

"There's an audition next week and I need a new shirt for it. Helen use to always go with me and she'd pick my shirts. Of course, she always picked the same kind – the brand, the color – and I usually would end up wearing the same shirt to every audition."

"I have to go groceries for the week. That's the one thing I hate about being on my own, I have to take care of this sort of stuff. Lyn use to always make sure we had food."

"I remember when Helen – "

"Every week, Lyn – "

The conversations continued every time they saw each other for the next few months, as if talking about Lyn and Helen was some sort of recovery process. It was time that was being taken to heal their broken hearts. "Did you ever think this would happen? That we would end up with our wives walking out on us and becoming divorced?" Michael asked as they walked down the street together one afternoon.

They stopped at the corner and waited for the light to change, giving Eric a few moments to think of an answer. "Not in a million years. I thought Lyn and I would always be together. I guess things change, but this change isn't good. We're single in apartments, eating TV dinners. At least you have a cat,"

"You can always switch things up to make your life more exciting…and you hate cats," Michael suggested. "By the way, I found a really good book on how to enjoy being alone. If you want to read it, I'll lend it to you when I'm done,"

Eric gave him a look. "Why would I need a book on how to enjoy being alone? What is there to enjoy about being alone? The fact that half of my closet is empty, that I eat dinner alone every night, or that I go to bed at nine every night because I have nothing better to do?"

The look was returned, with a laugh. "I haven't gone to bed at nine since I was fourteen. Maybe you're coming down with something. There is a cold going around,"

"No, I think I'm just depressed again. I keep thinking about Lyn,"

"Do you want to go to the movies tomorrow? There's a new film that I want to see," Michael tried to change the subject.

The light changed and Michael started walking, but Eric strayed. "I can't, Mike. I have…a date,"

Michael stopped just off the curb. "What? With who? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to make you mad," Eric admitted. "She's a girl from the post office, her name is Corinne. She gives me extra stamps for free and sometimes she takes a little off my total when I bring in packages,"

"Oh. Well…that's great. So you're really over Lyn…that's great. I'm glad for you," Michael paused to absorb the information. Truthfully, he had a secret of his own that he was hiding. "I have a date too…by the way,"

"You do?" Eric asked.

The light had changed again, so they decided to walk down the street to the next light. "It's a girl named Emily, I met her on the bus…I know, _I know_ that Helen and I are signing papers on Tuesday. So is it too soon? Am I bad for thinking another girl with long blonde hair and a short dress with big square glasses is cute? And her smile – _God_, she had really pretty teeth – "

"Mike, trust me, you're ready. At least I think you're emotionally ready. I don't know what physically instabilities you're having – "

"What do you mean physical instabilities?"

Eric sighed impatiently, as if Michael should already know what he was talking about. "Are you going to be able to get it up easy?"

"You know, we had a similar conversation once a few years ago, Eric. My body works just fine sexually, thank you very much, but that doesn't matter," Michael said quietly.

"Why? Aren't you going to sleep with her?" Eric asked.

"Eric, I'm not a 'sleep with my date on the first night' kind of guy,"

"I can't help it if I like to express myself physically. It feels good and there's nothing wrong with that,"

There was another sigh from Michael. "Regardless, I don't plan on sleeping with any girl any time soon. It's too close to my divorce for me to be fooling around. What if Helen found out?"

"What if she did? Is she going to divorce you over it? Just try it, just try sleeping with a girl on the first date."

A few days later, Michael went to Eric's apartment. Eric had bought a rug and was unrolling it and needed his friend's advice. "What do you think?" he came out of the kitchen with two cups in hand. "I really like it, but I don't want to have people over and they're all walking on it and thinking 'what is wrong with Eric and why did he buy this hideous rug?'"

"No, I like it. Probably something I would buy for myself," Michael told him.

"Good, good. I spent two hours in the rug shop, and then they had to order it. And Corinne was ready to eat – "

Michael looked up at him surprised. "You picked this out on a date?"

"Yeah, we were walking around downtown looking for a place to have dinner, and I saw the rug shop and thought '_the rug I have is the one I bought when Lyn and I were married so I need a new one_'. I can't bring new girls over and have them standing on the rug I bought with my ex-wife,"

"But what if you and Corinne don't work out? You'll be stuck with this rug and every time you look at it or walk on it, you'll think about her. Then where will you be?"

Eric's eyes were fixed on the rug, studying the detail and the fabric. "But I can't take it back after we had sex on it,"

The surprise on Michael's face became more obvious. "You had sex on the rug? Eric – "

"Maybe I can send it back. If I can, you have to come with me to get a new one. But enough about me, tell me about your date. Did you sleep with her?"

There was silence in the room as they both stared at that rug. "…Sort of…we tried it your way. I really did. We went out, I went to her place, and we were kissing, her hand went in my pants, and I know she wanted me to sleep with her. So…we went in her room, and we had sex,"

"How was it?" Eric pushed for details.

"It wasn't bad. I let her be on top…and afterwards, I had to lay there and hold her for half an hour. And then she asked if I wanted to stay the night, and I stayed," he ignored the look on Eric's face that asked what the hell he was doing sleeping over. "She made me breakfast."

Eric shook his head slowly in disbelief. "You realize that you could have left. You were at her place and can leave at anytime,"

"I feel bad about leaving right afterwards. That would make it a one night stand, like I'm never going to see her again. That's what it means when you walk out after having sex with someone. It means _'I don't plan on every seeing you again'_. It doesn't just mean that they are too strange to be around or that they smell or were bad at sex, but that you don't want to have them involved in your life,"

"Are you going to see her again?" Eric asked.

"Are you going to see Corinne again?"

They both knew the answers the other would reveal, and the conversation was dropped. Only quiet sipping noises from their cups and light breathing were the sounds in the room, until Eric cleared his throat. "So you think I should take the rug back?"

* * *

><p>The divorce was finalized two Tuesdays later, and Eric was doing everything he could to make Michael feel better. He decided that they would go to a bar and have as many drinks as they could manage without getting sick, and then whatever else it would take to make Michael's night better. So far, they had at least three large beers each, and it was slowly affecting them."Come on, Mikey, cheer up," Eric brought them a new beer each. "I would have invited your other friends to this little party, but you haven't introduced me to any of them,"<p>

"I'm sorry. I'll bring them around soon," Michael said quietly to the table. "Fuck. I'm sorry I'm in such a bad mood, Eric, this…this is just an awful day. I've been preparing myself for this for months, but when I went to court today…fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"Just drink this," Eric pushed the beer to Michael's hands. "A few of these and you'll be feeling right as rain. I had a party when I had my divorce, and now here's one for you,"

Michael put the glass to his mouth and began to drink quickly, leaving Eric to consider how his friend might be feeling. Or at least, he started to consider, until some long blonde haired, square glasses wearing, beautiful teeth smiling girl in a short skirt came up to them and grabbed Michael's arm. "Oh my goodness, Michael, I didn't know you were going to be here!" she squealed.

A look of shock crossed his face, and Eric couldn't help but feel amused at the surprise. "Hi, Emily," he muttered.

She smiled briefly at Eric, then turned her awkward attention back to Michael and began to touch his hair. "Michael, you haven't called me in two weeks. I was wondering if I'd ever see you again – "

It was as if Emily didn't realize that Michael didn't need her or any woman hanging on him right now. What he needed was to take his sorrows and let them flow through his body with one deep inhale, and then send them away in a single breath. He needed to be himself for just one moment…but it was clear that Emily didn't get it. "Let's dance, just one dance…" she pulled him to his feet.

Eric watched as Emily dragged Michael across the room, and he saw the pleading look on his friend's face to pull him back and bring him to safety. He watched as Emily kept moving closer to Michael, flirting more and more with each moment, and he could see how uncomfortable he was feeling. He had to rescue him somehow…so Eric finished his drink, and pushed himself up from the table, and crossed the room to interrupt her twisting form. "Sorry, Emily, but it's just me and Michael tonight, and I want him all to myself,"

Emily started to protest, but Eric ignored her and pulled Michael away. "Thanks. I really wasn't in the mood to deal with her," Michael sighed and started to go back to the table, but found Eric's arm latched around his waist. "Eric, what are you doing?"

"I don't think you'll be getting away so easily. I didn't interrupt that awful dancing for you to slump in the corner and get drunk," Eric replied, turning them in a circle. "My, you dance divinely,"

That comment earned a slight smile from Michael. "Eric, please let me go sit down – "

"You're so good on your feet that I can't imagine what you're like off of them. What about on your knees?" Eric continued, making Michael laugh. "Michael, I can't hold back anymore. I have to kiss you!"

He then dipped Michael and pretended to smother his face in kisses, and Michael couldn't hold back his laughter. As strange and silly as this evening was, he couldn't help but think about how good a friend Eric was turning out to be, and so they spent the rest of the evening ignoring Emily's longing glances and drinking beer, forgetting the women of their past.


	5. Chapter Five

_I was in an art class with one of my friends in college. That particular day, the class had to do a drawing of a live model. So we went into the classroom and sat down, and I see this beautiful girl who is the model. She sits on the stool in the middle of the circle that our desks are in, and we start drawing. And as I'm drawing, I somehow know in that moment that this is it, that this girl is the one – she is the girl that I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. So I leaned over to my friend and I told him "I'm going to marry that girl." And he didn't believe me and said she probably wouldn't even go out with me. So after class, I asked her out and sure enough, we married one year later._

* * *

><p>"What are you doing tomorrow?" Eric asked Michael over the phone.<p>

Michael paused to shoo the cat off the counter and he began picking up dishes to dump into the sink. "I have an audition at eleven, and another one at two. What are you doing tomorrow?"

Eric leaned up against the closet door next to the phone. "Nothing. I am doing absolutely nothing…so let's have dinner tomorrow night. I have to eat with one of my friends tonight so they don't think I forgot about them,"

"Well, why not bring them tomorrow night and I'll bring some of my friends. You know, I still haven't met any of your friends. I'm sure you're ashamed of me, or else you would have introduced us,"

"I'm not ashamed of you. Where do you want to go eat?"

There were many restaurants in the area, as they both new, and they were equally beautiful and served equally delicious food. Usually, they went to one of the many restaurants together once a week. "There's a new restaurant on 3rd Street that I've wanted to go to since it opened,"

"What kind of food do they serve? Because if it's some sort of – "

"I don't know. Let's just go and if they don't have anything good on the menus, we can leave and go to the Italian place on 9th Street," Michael told him. "Please? It will be a great time, Eric."

"You don't have to beg, Mike. I hope you're not like this on a date. _Oh please, oh please, oh please, can I go down on you?_" Eric teased. "We'll go to the restaurant. I'll call up a few of my friends and we'll meet you there. Should we meet at eight o'clock?"

"Eight o'clock. See you tomorrow, Eric."

* * *

><p>"I don't know about this," Terry complained to Michael as they walked down the sidewalk away from the cab. "I don't like meeting new people,"<p>

"Terry, he is my friend, and you are my friend, and I'd like for my friends to meet so it doesn't feel like I'm sneaking around from friend to friend," Michael explained. "And he's bringing his friend, so we'll have dinner and get along and we'll all be friends,"

Terry gave him a look. "Friends, friends, friends. You're too damn cheerful about this. You'd think that you just got laid or something,"

Michael rolled his eyes. "Just you wait until you two meet,"

"You know what I did today?" Terry asked Michael, an embarrassed grin on his face. "I decided that today was the day I would tell Delilah how I feel about her, so I went to the flower shop on the corner and bought this big, stupid arrangement. Almost eighty pounds on white lilies and the white frizzy flower stuff – "

"Baby's breath," Michael interrupted.

Terry waved away the words. "And all sorts of greenery around it, and pink tissue paper because pink is her favorite color, and this giant lace bow. And a card…I wrote her a card,"

The way he looked shyly at Michael made him stop walking and he knew in his head that Terry's plans to woo his married co-worker were failing terribly, but he couldn't help but want to know what shenanigans he was up to. "What did it say?"

"Just everything that I've felt about her and thought about her since three months ago," Terry admitted.

"Everything? What did she say?" Michael asked.

"…I took it to her office, but her husband was in there with her. He was holding her and kissing her on her desk. You know, kind of leaning her over it and he…oh, it was just awful. I was so embarrassed that I gave the flowers to the cleaning lady. Now she thinks we're going out," Terry started to walk again, but stopped to look back at Michael. "I don't think she's ever going to leave him."

_The same thing over and over,_ Michael thought. It was a never ending cycle of mush and sap that made up Terry's world, and Michael was forced to have it shoved in one ear and out the other. Like most friendships, it had its toll. "Terry, no one thinks that she's going to leave him,"

Terry shook his head and continued to walk. "You're right. Why do I keep doing this to myself?" he turned to look over his shoulder at Michael. "Where's Terry at?"

"He's with Vic tonight," Michael replied.

"You know, I like Vic and everything and I think he's good for Terry, but I feel like we've grown apart," Terry said. "I don't like how when someone starts a relationship, they grow apart from their friends, and that's how I feel it's been. Do you think you and I would grow apart if I started dating Delilah?"

Once again, Michael stopped walking and faced Terry. "I've never met Delilah and I probably will never meet her. But if I ever did and if she ever left her husband and you two started dating, then yes – I think you and I would grow apart. But we don't have to worry about it because she's never going to leave him."

And once again, Terry shook his head at himself and started walking again. "You're right, you're right. _I know_ you're right…"

They didn't see up ahead that Eric and John were walking towards them, wrapped up in their winter coats as the cold winter wind was blowing in their direction. "Why did you have to pick the restaurants way out here?" John demanded, bending his head forward to keep the wind from freezing his eyes open. "We're practically in a bad neighborhood. I'm sure I saw a prostitute and her client and I don't even want to tell you _where_ I think she was taking it."

"It's a new restaurant, and Michael has wanted to try it since it opened," Eric replied. "Supposedly they have – "

"You know, you talk about him enough that one would think you were in love with him. Forgetting about me, are you?" John teased.

Eric stopped to turn John in his direction and hold his shoulders at arm's length. "John, you're one of my very good friends, and we've been sharing our writings together for years. You were there when I married, when I divorced, and I will be there for you when the same happens. So I don't think I really could forget about you,"

John considered his words. "How kind of you," he said in a monotone voice, and continued down the sidewalk to the restaurant. "I really don't know about this. I hate dinner with people I don't know. And I thought Graham was coming with us,"

"He has a dinner with David for their Gay Men's Book Club. And I don't know why you want to be so anti-social. You never go out, you stay in your apartment most of the day except to get a paper, and you're denying the chance to meet someone very interesting," Eric could see Michael and his pouting friend walking towards them and waved to get their attention. "What if he knows someone who knows someone who has a single female friend that you might potentially marry?"

"But I'm not interested in getting married," John looked at the pouting friend. "Is that him? He's got quite a stomach on him. Think he eats enough?"

Eric rolled his eyes. "That's not Michael, the other one is. I guess that's his friend, and you better be nice, or I won't include you on the plans anymore. And you want to be in on them, don't you?" he turned to see Michael and Terry not farther than a few feet away. "Michael, this is my friend John. John, Michael,"

"Terry, Eric," Michael gestured back and forth, then shoved his hands back into his jacket pocket. Plans that were set up for him to meeting new people made him nervous, but he tried not to show it. "Well, let's go inside before we freeze out here."

The four of them were seated at a round table and after the waiter took their orders, they were as quiet as death around the table. John was scanning the wine list and dessert menu, moving his lips as he read; Terry was scrubbing a smudge off his fork, as it appeared to be dirty, despite the assurance of the waiter; Michael and Eric were looking nervously at each other, trying to figure out what to say to end the silence. Moments passed until Eric straightened up with realization of what he could say. "John, did you know that Michael wrote for and acted on that show you use to watch all the time?"

"What show?" John didn't take his eyes off the menu.

"The Red Light Program," Michael offered.

John lowered the menu in thought. "Oh yes, I remember that show...not very good,"

Eric grimaced as a look of confusion crossed Michael's face. "You didn't like it?" he asked, looking at Eric, who found his own menu very interesting. "What was wrong with it?"

"Well, it's not that I didn't like it," John folded his menu on the table and drank from his water glass. "The writing was well done, and the acting was…alright…I just wasn't that interested in it. I suppose it could have been better,"

"That show was rated very highly by critics," Michael reminded him. He turned to Terry, preparing to state that his friend liked the show and to ask him what he liked about the show, but the uneasiness of Terry's expression made Michael question his friend's opinion. "You said you liked the show…didn't you?"

"I do…did," Terry said quickly. "It had…great…themes? But you can do better things than The Red Light Program, or Outside the Box. I've always thought you could do your own show. We're both good writers, we could work together. I am tired of working on unread newspapers and magazine articles,"

That was the signal that Eric was waiting for, and he straightened up again to draw attention to himself. "That's why John and I have talked about writing our own material to start a television show, or to make a film. And…" he looked at Michael. "I want you to show him some of your writing because I want you to be part of it. It will be much better than The Red Light Program and Outside the Box,"

"What kind of film?" Michael asked.

"We're not sure yet, but we're starting to write up material and we're going to read together sometime next week," Eric continued. "Want to write some material and share it with us? You too, Terry, if you think you'll have time,"

Michael and Terry glanced at each other. "Sure," Terry agreed. "That sounds great."

John took his napkin off the table and laid it across his lap. "Tell me, what magazines and newspapers do you write for, Terry?"

"I wrote reviews for _The Tribute _on a few movies, and I did some articles for _Reservoir _and_ Great Victorian_. The last one, I wrote one on the homeless in London, and one on how restaurants are less superior to the motherly dinners our generation received," Terry listed off.

"Oh, you're _that_ Terry, aren't you?" John asked. "I did read that, and that was quite superior,"

Terry looked surprised. "Really? You truly liked it?" he glanced at Michael, a grin on his face, and he looked back to John. "That's the nicest thing that anyone has said about my writing. I appreciate that."

"See? Some people know how to compliment well and be honest with others," Michael said directly to Terry, who's eyes casted to the floor but went right back to John and he leaned closer, as if to persuade him to continue the conversation.

The rest of dinner went very well, as John and Terry seemed to be getting along. – in fact, there were a few moments where they seemed to be getting along a little _too_ well. An example would be when Terry's hand would find its way onto John's arm and remain there until one of the other two party guests coughed, and he would let go carefully. Or when John continued to order more wine and fill Terry's glass, and Terry would lean in and blush at John's flirting comments until again, Eric or Michael would cough and they would separate. After they paid, they slipped back into their coats and left the restaurant. Eric and John were walking ahead, discussing the idea of all four of them writing together, while Michael and Terry held back. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Eric asked John.

John shrugged. "I suppose it wasn't that awful,"

"Say, Michael," Terry held onto his friend's elbow. "Would you think it weird of me if I told you that…well…I'm attracted to John…should I ask him to dinner again?"

It wasn't what Michael had expected to hear after that dinner, although it didn't shock him the way it might other people. He had seen how they were acting together and he had exchanged a look with Eric across the table that said something was going to happen between them. "I suppose it would be alright," he decided.

Terry looked excited. "Really?"

"I would just wait a few days, because if you just run up to him and start talking about how you feel, then you'll scare him off like you do to Delilah – "

"Oh, _her_," Terry waved away her name. "Mike, you do realize she's never going to leave her husband, right? Don't worry, I'll wait until Thursday."

John glanced over his shoulder at the two others to see how close they were, then went back to Eric. "Did it seem like Terry and I were connecting in there?"

"Sure. You two were just ready to wipe the plates off the table and go at it," Eric replied.

"Would it be strange if I were to ask him to dinner sometime this week?" John asked.

Eric paused to light a cigarette, as they waited for Michael and Terry to catch up. "I don't see why not. But I would wait a few days though. He's going through some rough times. That girl from his work that I told you about? He's been interested in her for the past few months and Mike said that he's finally getting over her,"

"Alright, alright, I won't say anything," John agreed.

They all stood together then, letting the traffic fill the silence for a few moments. It was time for them to say good night and go off in their separate ways to their homes and tuck themselves into their warm beds, and sleep the – and that was when Eric and Michael noticed John eyes on Terry's and vice versa. "Well…I think I'm going to go home now. Any of you need a ride?" John asked.

"I would, please," Terry blurted out, moving towards John and they both glanced both ways before crossing the street. "I'll call you tomorrow, Mike," he said hurriedly to his friend as they sprinted after a car drove by.

"Eric, we'll do lunch," John replied in a similar tone, but it wasn't heard very well as they were rushing to get in John's car across the street.. When the doors closed and the engine started, they drove off to leave Eric and Michael on the curb alone. They both looked at each other in confusion, then at the back of the car as it drove away.

"…Well, that went well," Michael finally said, and Eric gave him another confused look. "What? Do you need a ride now?"


	6. Chapter Six

_We went to school together from the time we were little kids to the time we were preparing to go to college. And I didn't like her that much, because she was more well off and always acted like she was the best of the best. On the day that I was packing up to go to college, she calls me and asks me to meet her at the park, and I go. When I get there, she has this package for me with pictures of her and a piece of her hair and one of her sweaters. And there's a letter in there that she wrote, saying that she's always thought I was the best looking boy in our class and that she's always wanted to talk to me. So I gave her the biggest kiss I could manage and we exchanged college addresses and wrote to each other for the next few years, and we were married one week after we graduated._

* * *

><p>When John and Terry had been together for three months, they decided to move in together. Of course, their friends all agreed to help them move their furniture to the new apartment. Terry G, Graham, and David went ahead, while Eric and Michael rode together. However, Michael didn't realize that they were making a stop downtown until they pulled into the parking lot. "What are we doing?" he asked Eric.<p>

"Well, we can't show up without a housewarming gift. That's rude," Eric explained. "I was talking with Terry the other day and he mentioned a few things that he was thinking about getting."

"What's here?" Michael looked at the red brick building as they got out of the car. Eric didn't respond as he led Michael inside, to long white hallways with brightly colored lights, tall ferns, and soft grey carpeting. They came to a room that was equally brightly lit up, with movies playing on small televisions in the corner and magazine racks everywhere else. Looking around, Michael then noticed that there were nude magazines on the racks, and the movies playing were of people having sex, and one of the walls were covered with dildos. "What the hell?" he demanded, stepping back towards the door.

Eric laughed at Michael's surprise and led him by the wrist back to the corner of the room, where he extended his arms in a grand gesture to the black cloth swing hanging from the ceiling in display. "Ta-da!" he cheered.

Michael couldn't help but let his jaw drop in confusion and amusement at one, the item before him, and two, how excited Eric was about it. "Terry did not tell you about this," he decided.

"He did so. He said that sometimes the height differences make their sex a little difficult and he wanted a swing," Eric replied. "So there…he said it. See, it works like this - " Eric quickly hoisted himself into the swing and once he was settled, he tilted back and spread his legs open.

Michael picked up one of the boxes off the shelf to examine closer. "Maybe I'll get one. What do you think?" he laughed at himself, turning the box in his hands. "Who am I going to get up in a swing?"

"Lyn," was Eric's response.

"What?" Michael looked at him.

Eric gestured with his head down the aisle and slid out of the swing quickly. "What is she doing here? She told me she was moving back to Australia,"

Michael looked in the direction that Eric had pointed to see a couple walking towards them, a few frilly, slutty looking outfits hung over the woman's arm. "Do you want to leave?"

There wasn't time for Eric to respond, as the couple had reached them within moments. Lyn looked the exact same as she had the last day Eric saw her – the same outfit, the same headband that held back her shoulder length hair. Except now, she looked happy – genuinely happy, and it made his jaw tighten in frustration. And she was with a different guy that she had left him for. "Hello, Eric," she said politely.

He nodded back. "How are you?"

"Good," she said, turning to her partner and gently placed her hands on his arms. "Eric, this is Richard. Darling, this is my ex-husband…the one I told you about,"

Michael looked at Eric out of the corner of his eye, seeing him tense up even more. He knew that this was too much, too soon for Eric. "Lyn, I don't know if you remember me – " Michael started to introduce himself, as if to take the tension away from Eric.

Eric interrupted, his eyes on the sexy clothes that Lyn held folded on her arm. "I thought you were going back to Australia,"

Lyn hide her giggles behind her hand at her ex-husband's dumbfounded expense. "Well, I was, but I met Richard and he lives in London, and I came back. And I do remember you, Michael. How are you and Helen?"

"…Actually, we've divorced," Michael admitted, feeling almost the way Eric looked.

However, Lyn looked unaffected by either of them. "That's a shame," her voice was unapologetic. "Well…you two look as if you'll be busy later. Hope we're not interrupting any plans,"

Both Eric and Michael looked at the picture of the swing on the box in Michael's hands. "Oh, that's – " Eric started, but stopped when he saw the amusement on his ex-wife's face.

"You two have a nice day together," Lyn smirked as she dismissed Richard and herself, the naughty clothes still held over her arms.

Michael put the box back on the shelf and his hands went into his pockets. "Are you okay?" he finally spoke into the tension.

"I'm fine. Let's get the fucking swing and go," Eric snatched the box back off the shelf and went to the cash register.

The cashier rang them up without a word, passing back change for Eric to shove into his pocket. "Are you sure you're okay?" Michael cautiously touched Eric's shoulder.

Eric shrugged. "In a city like London, you're bound to run into your ex-wife at some point. I fully believe in fate now, and I'm fine with it,

"We don't have to go to John and Terry's right now. Let's go for a coffee first," Michael tried to distract him.

"And carry this swing around with us? No, let's take this to them," Eric took the large brown paper bagged swing and went for the door, and Michael followed with a sigh.

* * *

><p>And although he tried to take pleasure in being with his friends, Eric couldn't help but feel dissatisfied with himself. He had let Lyn get to him, about her new love and how blissful she was, and none of this was with him. Looking at his friends and <em>their<em> new found love, he decided that he was revolted by life and he decided to spend the rest of the afternoon drinking his sorrows away in the backyard beneath the large tree. "What is he doing out there?" Terry J looked out the kitchen window, where he was putting away plates. "He's been out under that tree since you two got here. What happened?"

Michael stood next to Terry and looked outside with him. "He's having a bad time right now, with running into Lyn like that…she was awful. So cold to him, hanging onto that man she's with, buying – oh, I almost forgot," he left the kitchen and came back a few moments later, carrying the paper brown bag containing the inappropriate gift to Terry. "Eric and I got you this…housewarming gift."

"Oh, well thank you," Terry set down the plates to take the bag and peered inside, looking back up with a look of surprise on his face. "You didn't!"

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Michael shoved his hands in his pockets. "He said you told him you wanted one."

"And I do!" Terry looked ecstatic as he took the box out and he examined the pictures on the sides. "Oh, you don't know how much I appreciate this. John, look at what they bought us!"

He moved past Michael and into the sitting room, where everyone else was examining the bright purple vase that had been placed on the fireplace mantle. "Terry, what the hell is this?" Graham asked him, pointing to the vase with his pipe when Terry and Michael came in, the box still in their host's hands. "And what is _that_?"

"Look, John, they got us a swing," Terry held it out enthusiastically.

John gave him a dumbfounded look, not sure as to what they were going to do with this object. "A swing? Really, are we ten? What the hell are we going to do with a swing? Oh, it's not a playground swing, it's…one of those kinds of swings."

The two exchanged a look of eagerness, and everyone turned away. "I'll go put it in the bedroom," Terry offered. He left the room and returned to find all the attention was put back on the purple vase. "Don't you love it? I got it at this roadside tent – "

"It's hideous," Terry G interrupted bluntly. "It's incredibly hideous, and as gay men, we all know what hideous is,"

Michael started to retort, but Terry J interrupted him. "John and Michael like it. After all, they said it's very nice. Didn't you, Mike?"

Now all the attention was on him and it was all up to him now to either defend the vase or admit that he thought it was particularly dreadful. "…It's…very intriguing," he finally decided.

"See? Very intriguing, Terry," Terry J stuck his nose in the air like he had won. "It looks like I'm not the only one who likes it."

"The word _intriguing_ doesn't exactly sound promising. That's like he said it was _interesting_," Graham replied.

Terry turned to John. "Don't you like the vase? I thought you said you did,"

John shook his head. "If you had good taste, then I might like it, but unfortunately, you don't. This thing is just awful."

"_Awful_?" Terry repeated.

"We were like this once," Eric said from the back of the room, and everyone turned to look at him with a wine glass in hand. "Me and Lyn…once, one time, long ago…we were moving in together, putting the table where we wanted it, the bookshelf, the dishes…we painted and put in new carpet…and then the next thing you know, she's sneaking around _my _house with some guy she's fucking!"

Everyone was silent. "Do you have to talk about this now?" Michael finally asked quietly.

"Mike, I'm just explaining how relationships work to our friends. Perhaps you should do the same, since you recently had your whole world taken away from you," Eric replied rudely and began to wobble towards them. "And it all starts out so nicely. You bring your stuff, they bring their stuff, and then one day, you might get in a fight over that vase – " he gestured to the purple vase. "This ugly ass purple vase…my God, it's _repulsive_ – " he ignored Terry's gasp of shock and the stunned look on his face. "You'll decide to break up and get in a stupid legal argument over who gets that vase and it will lead to thousands of pounds in phone calls over 'this is mine', 'no it's mine' bullshit. Complete _bullshit_!"

"Eric – "

Terry J started waving his hands anxiously, making everyone's attention go back to him. "So…you don't like vase? Why did you all told me that you did?"

Eric groaned, and turned around and went back outside. "_I_ was being nice!" he shouted over his shoulder.

John cleared his throat in the silence, and put his hand to Terry's shoulder, turning his lover towards him. "My dear, just so you know…I will never, ever, ever want that ugly ass purple vase. _Ever_…for the rest of my life,"

"…I'm friends with liars," Terry realized.

Michael followed Eric out to the backyard and under the tree again. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked. "That was completely unnecessary. I can't believe you just blew up like that in front of them,"

Eric rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm sorry that I'm not Mr. Manners all the time like you, always so cool and calm and collected. Am I not allowed to have a moment where I can let all my feelings out?"

"What are you talking about?" Michael demanded.

"You never say anything that isn't normal or monotone," Eric explained. "You always act like nothing bothers you. Don't you ever get frustrated over…over the toast burning, or change getting eaten by the newspaper machine, or even losing a sock in the dryer?"

The back door opened and Terry came out, the purple vase in hand. He walked down the brick path, pausing at the curve to glance up at his friends. "I don't want to hear a single word," he told them, and continued down the path towards the garbage bin which was full of boxes and packing materials.

Eric persuaded the conversation. "Well? Don't you?"

"Yes, I get frustrated over things. I get mad when I lose that sock or when the window gets stuck halfway when it's raining, or when the cat gets out the front door when I'm trying to leave. But I don't just let it all explode in front of everyone,"

"Here's the thing – despite that you and Helen were getting a divorce, you two still slept together. I just saw my ex-wife that I haven't seen in a year and a half, the one that left me and is now going between several different men, while I've been struggling between pathetic relationships. Which by the way, you wouldn't know anything about being in because you've only gone out with one girl since – "

"I go out with girls! And maybe if you didn't sleep with every living one you saw, then you could get a relationship settled and some of us could have a chance,"

Terry passed them again, walking slowly as if he was disappointed in the lack of niceness his friends had displayed about his purchase, but he was clearly trying to listen to their argument. Eric and Michael ignored him, and continued. "_You _have slept with only one girl since Helen," Eric pointed out.

"That doesn't mean anything!" Michael shot back. "So that will prove that I'm over her? Me sleeping with someone else? Again, Eric – even if I wanted to sleep with some girl out here, I would have to wait for you to get off of her. It's almost as if you're competing with Lyn over how many people you can fuck, like its revenge for her screwing around on you," he turned as if he was leaving, but spun back around when he found another comeback lodged in his throat and it was ready to come out. "And besides, I will sleep with someone else when I feel like I'm ready to. Not like sleeping with Emily, which wasn't the right thing to do at that time...you know how the first time you sleep with someone, how it's new and different? Well, you have to try figure out what _they_ like and how to tell them what _you_ like, and sometimes you notice that you do something that they respond well to that they didn't talk about or they find something about you? And then you have to work it all out so all the ways of liking can go together and one of you isn't left out in the cold on getting off? It's been so long since I've had to do that, with so many years spent on her, and I'm just not ready to start expressing myself physically and going through that whole thing again. Unlike you…practically a fucking gynecologist,"

"You just said fuck…two times," Eric said, astonished at the long speech and two time use of the F-word.

"_Eric_!" Michael groaned at the easy distraction.

"Well, I'm sorry. No, I'm really sorry," Eric reached for Michael, who seemed to not believe the first apology and was turning away. "I'm sorry I was…being…a dick. And believe me, it's hard to admit that, but I was and I'm sorry,"

It took a few moments, but Michael did accept it. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you were being a dick,"

Eric scowled. "Fuck you,"

"Well, that lasted, didn't it?" Michael grinned in retaliation. "Come on, let's go back inside before everyone dissects everything else Terry owns and he ends up with nothing."


	7. Chapter Seven

_I went with my family to my father's work picnic, which was at the lake outside of town. I took the girl I was seeing at that point, who was twelve and I was fifteen. When we were in the food line, one of the girls that was serving food was a girl I had seen in town, and she was something, I really mean something. I talked to her for what I thought was a few minutes, but it turned out to be a few hours. When I went back to my girlfriend, she was talking to another boy, who was thirteen. We ended up breaking up that day and I went back to talk to the girl at the food line, and we spent the rest of the day together…I did mention she was sixteen, right?_

* * *

><p>Eric was settling into his bed and preparing to write a few sketches for the show. The pillows were stacked against his back and he balanced the notebook against his knees, and he quickly scanned over all that he had written so far. "This is going to be great," he told himself, a grin on his face. The phone on his bedside table rang and he swore under his breath at the distraction, so late at night, then reached for the phone and held it between his shoulder and the side of his face. "Hello?"<p>

There was a pause. "Hey…Eric, hey…Eric, what are you doing?"

It was Michael, clearly drunk. "I'm in bed," Eric replied, still writing. "What are you doing?"

"I'm at the pub," Michael laughed. "Do you want to come over? To the pub, I'm at the pub. Come over here…"

"What's wrong?" Eric asked, scratching out the last line he wrote and scribbling in something new. He glanced at his tabletop clock, with the hands pointed to almost eleven. "It's late, Mike. You should probably go home and get to bed,"

There was another pause, and Eric could hear Michael drinking on the other end of the line. "I saw Helen today,"

Upon hearing those words, Eric put down the notebook and started getting out of bed. "Which pub? I'll be there in a few minutes,"

"Did you know she's pregnant?" Michael's words were slurred. "I think I'm going to lie down on the floor here, on the floor, and I'm going to take a nap right here until you get here," he could be heard moving around and the side of the phone clunked against the tile floor. "There I go…I'm at the pub on 11th Street, "

"That's alright, Mike, I'll see you soon," Eric hung up the phone and shook his head. "This is going to be a long night."

He changed into the jeans he had worn earlier that day and an old t-shirt, then put on his shoes and drove to the pub on 11th Street. There weren't too many people at the bar, and a few just of age girls at the jukebox in the corner. Eric looked to the bartender and asked for his friend, only to find Michael lying on the floor, a half empty bottle in his hand. "Hey, Eric," he greeted him excitedly, and tried to stand up.

Eric rushed around the counter to steady his friend's movements. "Just stay down, Michael,"

"No, I have to tell you about today," Michael leaned over and took another drink. "I was at the bookstore again today…and I saw her in the development aisle. So I went to say hel_lo_ because I thought she was moving, and she said that she was pregnant," he paused to take another drink, which seemed to burn his throat by the expression of irritation on his face. "It's our divorce lawyer's baby."

"I'm sorry," Eric offered. "I'm really sorry,"

Michael sat back against the counters. "I guess I will just never understand…why not me? What's wrong with me? Why was I the one that was sterile? If I wasn't, then we'd still be together and we'd have two or three kids! And more cats!"

"If you could change everything you have now, would you?" Eric asked him.

"I don't know!" Michael exclaimed, his words still slurring. "I don't know the difference between those things and what's going on now. What if I chose the alternate life and it was really bad? What if I would be a bad father or I became a drunk or I beat Helen because she burnt the toast? What if I couldn't support them or I developed a stutter like _my_ dad? He had…had a real bad stutter, it was awful…like a skipping record…and the worst part…I'm going to be _fifty_!"

Eric sat back, confused. "When?"

He took another drink as the same look crossed Michael's face as he tried to calculate the difference between his age and the years he felt were coming too soon. "…Someday…" he murmured.

"In thirteen years," Eric corrected him.

"But it's there! It's just this big dead end of my life and that's when I'm too old to do anything. It's like Terry said, we're getting to the midlife crisis time and we should be spending all our money on stupid things, and instead I'm…in a pub with you," he looked disappointed, although it may have been from the lack of drink in his grasp.

"Oh, well, thanks," Eric finished the last of it himself, then gestured to the bartender for more. "Since I'm here, let's have a few more drinks and try to forget about this problem. You'll be feeling right soon enough,"

A drunken smile crossed Michael's face and he slumped against Eric's chest. "Thank you…you're a really great friend, you know…I like being here with you, Eric. Things would just be better if you had a vagina…and big tits,"

Eric stood up and put his arms around Michael under his own arms, then lifted him to his feet. "There you go. Now sit at the table and have a drink like a proper drunk,"

"I have to throw up," Michael's face suddenly clouded with seriousness.

And once he had cleared himself of vomit, Michael was seated back at the bar, where he continued to drink himself into a stupor with Eric. At one point, he considered calling both Terrys, John, and Graham to join his spinning world, but the bartender reminded them that it was nearing two o'clock, which meant that he needed to close up. "That's ridiculous!" Eric shouted, his words were blended together in a barely understandable language. "Why would you leave us when we're all having such a good time?"

The bartender gave them a look. "Because we actually close at one, and I stayed open because I know you're having a bad night. I have a family at home myself and I have things to do with my children tomorrow,"

"Oh, fuck you," Michael scowled. "Just because we don't…_oh!_...we had stupid wives and they left us…they left us for…_stupid men_!"

Eric cheered in agreement, and the bartender rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "You two need to go. I'll call you a cab and you two can wait outside at the bus stop,"

"We don't need to wait outside!" Eric told him. "We have cars!"

The bartender decided it would be better for London if these two men stayed in the pub until the cab arrived, so he locked the doors and called the cab company. Michael was slumped over the counter and Eric was standing at the jukebox, punching the numbers in his own song. Thankfully, the cab had pulled up outside and honked its horn, signally the bartender to pull out his keys and go for the door. "Come on," Michael started giggling, linking his arm with Eric's. "Come over to my place. I think I still have some naked pictures of Helen I wanted to show you."

So they rode in the cab to Michael's apartment, completely inebriated the whole way and irritating every ounce of sanity from the cab driver. Stumbling up the steps, they stood outside the door and Michael fumbled with his keys, dropping them two times before Eric took them and managed to unlock the door, which flew against the wall and they burst out laughing. "Shh!" Eric whispered loudly.

"We better not wake up Dad," Michael retorted and began to struggle out of his jacket which he threw the jacket down on the floor before going off to his room. "I think the pictures are in here in a box in my closet,"

Eric locked the front door from outside intruders and followed Michael, who was slumped onto the floor in front of his closet and pulling out a box that was underneath his suits and heavy winter jackets, and Eric stretched across the bed. "Why do you still have naked pictures of her?" he asked, adjusting pillows.

The cardboard box lid flew between him and the ceiling to hit the wall between the two bedroom windows. "I'm not throwing them away! Do you know how long I had to wait for these?"

"But why have them _still_? It's not like she's going to come back and ask if you still have them," Eric thought out loud, then figured the answer. "_You have them because you think she'll come back_!"

A large envelope landed on the sheets and Michael was knelt at the bedside, struggling to crawl onto the mattress. "I use to think she would," he said quietly. "I always wanted her to do it when I was asleep, and I'd wake up and she'd be in bed again, like she had never left. But after a few weeks, I knew it wasn't going to happen…and things weren't too different with her gone. I still had dinner to make and a job to do, and I got my cat so I had to take care of him…but everything was too quiet with her gone. Now I kind of like the silence,"

Eric looked at the envelope that was lying on the bed, and it looked as if it had been opened recently. "When was the last time you looked at the pictures?" he asked.

"A few weeks ago," Michael admitted. He picked up the envelope and opened the flap, but didn't take the pictures out. "It's not that I don't want to show them to you, but…it would cheapen the idea. She gave these to me because she loved me once and she made me promise not to…I can't do that." Satisfied with his answer, he closed the flap back up and threw the envelope into the box. When it landed on cardboard bottom, he settled back against the headboard next to Eric and glanced at him. "You're a really good friend," he finally said.

Eric didn't expect for this to happen. He thought they would get drunk, act stupid and laugh a lot, and Michael would forget about Helen and move on with his night. Instead, they got drunk, acted stupid and laughed a lot, went to Michael's apartment, almost looked at naked pictures of his ex-wife, and then Michael kissed him. First it was a normal kiss, where he leaned close and rested his lips softly against Eric's and then pulled just an inch away. The kiss was longer and more firm the second time and the third time, they turned their bodies towards each other and they opened their mouths to deepen the kiss. Eric didn't struggle when Michael began to gently climb on top of him, straddling Eric's thin figure and snuggling him into the pillows. Oh, how the aroma of Eric's cologne swam through Michael's nose and into his lungs, and he moved his mouth to kiss down Eric's neck and he could smell his shampoo and soap and the laundry detergent on his shirt – he bit gently on his Adam's Apple, and smoothed the spot with another kiss. That was when Eric's hands moved from under the back of Michael's shirt to the front to undo the first button, then the second…

* * *

><p>They did it. They had sex together, and lay on the bed afterwards, not sure what to say to one another. It only seemed normal that they would fall asleep, as it was so early in the morning, but at the same time, it seemed awkward to do so right away. Still, Eric was the first to slumber, still naked with his left arm strung over his chest, and Michael watched him breath before finally falling asleep himself. When he awoke sometime later, he found that Eric was awake and flipping through a magazine in bed next to him. They smiled briefly at each other as Michael situated himself against his pillows, and Eric cleared his throat. "I'm going to get a glass of water and some aspirin," his voice was quiet as he set the magazine aside. "Do you want some?"<p>

"Yeah, sure," Michael said just as quietly.

Eric reached for his shorts and t-shirt on the floor and redressed himself, then made his way down the hallway to the kitchen. He took two glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice cubes and water, pausing before shutting off the water. It was then that he found himself with a smile one his face, one that was so shy and nervous and thrilled all at the same time, as he was confused about how to feel about what had happened. He took a bottle of aspirin from the cabinet and went back to the bedroom, where Michael had pulled on his undershirt and shorts and was sitting up in bed, and he was looking out the window onto his neighborhood. "Here," Eric got back into bed and handed over one of the glasses and the bottle of pills.

Michael took it, but he didn't drink from the glass or take pills as Eric did himself. He wasn't really sure what to do now, except maybe there would be breakfast or they'd cuddle and go at it again. But this was Eric, who had picked up a magazine off the bedside table and was looking through it again. "What do you want to do now?" Michael finally took his pills. "Do you want to watch something on the television?"

"Not unless you do," Eric said, distracted by the articles. "There's just the news right now."

"Do you want me to make breakfast?" Michael rolled over towards him, stopping to grimace when the pain in his sore backside flared up. He was going to have to remember to apply Vaseline.

Eric put the magazine back on the bedside table. "I'm not hungry right now. Are you comfortable?" he lay back on the pillows and turned onto his side so they faced one another, their legs brushing against the others.

"Mhm," Michael murmured softly, tracing his toes against the tops of Eric's feet. His breath smoothed over Eric's mouth, and he pressed his lips together in response as their eyes connected. They were quiet, compared to the outside traffic and early morning business conversations below the window, and finally Michael spoke again. "Do you…do you want to have another go?"

"Well, I wasn't sure if you wanted to," Eric said. "It's early…but we can, if you want to,"

"I do… let's switch this time," his lover suggested. There was a brief pause, and Eric also agreed. And once again that morning, they were hidden beneath the bed sheets, held gently in each other's arms and kissing lightly, and they moved into positions. This time, the partners were switched, and they had sex one more time.

When they finished, dawn was rising through the window and stretched across the wooden floor panels, across the foot of the bed. The two men had collapsed onto the pillows and crumpled sheets, lying still to allow their heart rate to go down and their breath to catch up, all to a different synchronized rhythm. Slowly, they glanced at each other and a shy smile crossed their faces, still caught up in the ecstasy of them just having sex – again, twice, two times that early morning! "That was nice," Eric told him.

_Nice?_ Michael thought, laughing in his mind. _It was more than nice! It was positively –_ "It was," he agreed, and they fell silent again, not sure what to say now. He looked towards the sunlight in the window, and he caught sight of the clock on his bedside table. It was only six o'clock…what to do now? "Do you want breakfast now?"

"Actually…I think I'm going to get up now," Eric decided. "I need to go home and take a shower."

He moved out of the bed and searched for his clothes, and Michael was confused at his decision to leave so quickly. "Oh…well, you can use my shower," he offered._ Maybe we can take one together!_

"No, I don't want to take all your hot water. Besides, all my clean clothes and my soaps are at home. I need my stuff, and I have to go get my car," Eric's voice was muffled as he pulled his shirt over his head and stuck his arms through the armholes, then went for his jeans. He was trying to distract himself from Michael, who had sat up in bed and tucking the sheets around his waist, as if he was suddenly shy about being naked in front of his friend. "I haven't stayed up all night like that in a long time, I'll probably sleep all day now. Do you want to have dinner tonight? If you're not busy, that is."

Michael shook his head, although Eric wasn't looking at him. "I'm not doing anything later," he said.

Finally, Eric turned around and looked at him. "Great. I'll see you at the restaurant on 6th Street? How about seven o'clock?"

"That's fine," Michael agreed.


	8. Chapter Eight

Eric looked as if he wanted to go for the door right then, but he paused, then leaned over the bed and kissed Michael goodbye. It lingered for a moment, and then he was out the door, and Michael remained in bed, unsure as to if it really happened. With a sigh, he reached for his phone on the bedside table and dialed Terry and John's phone number and waited for his friend to pick up. "Hello?" Terry's voice was half asleep.

"I'm sorry to wake you, but I really needed someone to talk to," Michael's voice became desperate.

As Terry sat up in his bed in his apartment that was blocks away, John was muttering under his breath, half asleep. "No one I know would call at this hour," he said into his pillow.

"Well, it is someone you know, so just go back to sleep," Terry replied, then turned his attention back to Michael. "Why are you calling so early? What's going on?"

Michael adjusted his pillow and lay back, trying to get comfortable so he could tell his tale. "Something weird happened last night…I ran into Helen, and I got really upset, so I went to the pub and got really drunk. The next thing I know – " his words were interrupted by a beeping in his phone. "Hold on, someone else is calling me," he pressed a button on the phone base and went over to the other line. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mike. What are you doing this morning?" Terry G asked. "I feel like running and counteracting all the hard work with a fatty breakfast of pancakes,"

"Nothing right now, I'm just talking to Terry. And actually, I'm glad you called because something happened and I can just tell you both now. Hold on," he paused to press another button on the phone base to connect them in a three way call. "Alright, I have you both on the line,"

"Is this going to take long? I have to pee and I'm getting hungry," Terry J said.

"Me too," Terry G agreed. "I was just asking Mike if he wanted to go running and then have breakfast,"

Terry J groaned. "I don't want to go running this early. Can't we just eat breakfast?"

A sigh from Terry G responded over the two phone lines. "I guess I can go running after breakfast. Mike, do you still want to go? And where are we getting breakfast from?"

"How about the diner on 8th Street?" Terry J suggested, suddenly getting excited. "They have a really lovely atmosphere and their bacon is – "

Another sigh sounded out, but it was filled with irritation from Michael, who was tired of being ignored. "I'm sorry to interrupt you two and your plans for today, but I need to tell you something,"

"Can't this wait until breakfast?" Terry G asked.

"No, Terry, it can't," Michael finalized the debate that he knew would start again. "Alright…I got really drunk at the pub last night and the next thing I know…Eric and I…we did it,"

There was silence on both ends of the line and Michael wondered after a few seconds if his friends had hung up on him. Finally, Terry J spoke. "What, at the pub?"

"No, not at the pub. Here at my place,"

Another pause went through the phone. "But I thought you weren't into men," Terry G said in a confused voice.

"I guess just Eric when we're drinking…"

"Huh," Terry G muttered, as if deep in thought. "Well…I think it's great…I always thought you two had some kind of connection…I just never realized _how_ you were connecting…" And although Michael couldn't see him, there was a sly smile that started to grow over his friend's face as another idea came into his mind. "So Mike…uh…how was it? Was it any good?"

Terry J burst out into a nervous laugh, startling John, who had started to drift back to sleep. "Terry! You can't just ask questions like _that_!"

Now John was awake and he looked intrigued. "Questions like what?"

Michael couldn't help but also smile at his friend's curiosity, feeling his cheeks shading pink. "It was really good, really…wonderful…I thought we were having a good time together and then we decided to have another good time together after that, and then he decided to leave suddenly this morning. It was almost like he wanted to forget everything that had happened,"

"Maybe he didn't have a good time," Terry J offered.

The smile on Michael's face developed into a full grin as he paused to remember. "No…he had a great time. I don't know if I scared him off or if I did something wrong. I offered to make him breakfast – "

"That's too clingy," Terry G interrupted. "No one wants to have breakfast at the house of the person they just fucked,"

"Thanks for making it sound like a one night stand, Terry," Michael replied. "That does a lot for my confidence during this whole situation. It's one of the few time I have sex since my divorce and you tell me that I'm far too clingy and no one wants breakfast with me,"

"Well, it does sound like a one night stand to me," Terry G shrugged, sorting through the small dish on the table that held loose change and various buttons and keys at his apartment. "And it might be for the best. Maybe you two were curious about sex with each other and all it took was some liquid courage. Sometimes things just don't work out the way we want them too. Maybe you are better off as friends,"

It took a few moments for the words to process, and Michael knew he was right. He started to speak, but John's voice spoke next to Terry J. "Are you still on the phone with them?"

Terry J sighed with irritation. "Go take a shower. We're going for breakfast with Michael and Terry,"

"Actually, I think I'm going to stay in this morning, get some sleep and work on some of my writing. Thanks for talking to me," Michael told them.

"First all night sex since the big divorce – nice going, I'm impressed," Terry G admired. "Don't worry about anything. Just give him a few days and he'll come around. It's not always wham-bam."

"Call us if you need anything," Terry J added.

They all hung up simultaneously and Terry G paused to think on the conversation, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen. "Hey Vic?" he said, standing in the doorway. "We've got two more!"

Meanwhile, Terry J turned to John, who looked at him curiously. "Mike and Eric…they finally did it,"

"Really?" John asked.

"Mhm," Terry then folded John into his arms and sighed with relief. "Please, please, _please_ tell me that I'll never have to be out there, single, in the world again,"

In response, John held him tighter. "Not on my watch," he replied. Their moment was private and quiet, until the phone rang again. With a confused look, John reached for it and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"John, it's Eric," the voice told him. "What's wrong with your phone? I've been trying to call you,"

"Uhhh…." John looked at Terry, both of them with a slight bit of panic in their eyes. "It must…have been…unplugged? Yes, unplugged…where are you?"

"I'm at a payphone," Eric said, nervously eyeing the homeless man who moved past the phone booth and he pressed on the door handle more. "I needed to call you because something weird happened last night,"

The panic in John and Terry's eyes became more observant. "Weird like how? What happened?"

Eric sighed into the phone. "Mike saw Helen yesterday and called me, and he was really drunk. I mean, he was really, really, _really_ drunk. I met him at the pub and I got drunk with him…and we went back to his place…we did it. We had sex,"

"Act like you don't know!" Terry whispered, not realizing the high level of volume he was using.

"You and Mike did it?" John repeated, looking at Terry as he acted to Eric like he didn't know what was going on.

"Yeah, last night," Eric told him, sounding as if he was depressed by the news. "I feel terrible though, just awful,"

"Why, was it bad?" John asked and Terry smacked him on the arm.

Eric laughed. "No, it…it wasn't bad actually. But afterwards, I didn't know what to do. You know how after you take someone home or you go to their place, and you do it and then you can sleep or do it again or leave? Well, we did it again, and that leads to option four, which is getting to know each other. But Mike and I already know each other, so there's really nothing to talk about. So we just sat there for awhile and I…I pretended to fall asleep, and then I did fall asleep. And that's when we did it again…and I decided to leave afterwards."

There was a short pause on the other end of the line, followed by bits of whispering between John and Terry that Eric could barely make out. "Well, was it any good?" John finally asked, feeling silly that he had let Terry pressure him into asking the question, considering that he had just scolded him for asking before.

"It was good," Eric told him, feeling equally silly. He began to reflect on that early morning when he had pretended to be asleep. He knew that Michael had lain next to him, his breath moving softly over Eric's face and he had to keep as still as possible to keep from shivering in the cool gulp of air. They were so warm together beneath the sheets and he could feel Michael's legs stroke his when he rolled over closer to Eric, and the –

John's voice interrupted Eric's thoughts. "Let me get this straight – you had sex together, then fell asleep, woke up, and then had more sex together and you left afterwards?"

It didn't sound so good when John said it. "That's really it. That's what happened."

"Well, I guess I'm confused on why you left. It's Michael after all, you could have stayed and had breakfast,"

Eric sighed. "That's the thing…I felt weird. It was very strange for me to be lying there in his bed, knowing that I just had _two_ sexual encounters with him. And he turned to me afterwards and he gave me a look…_the_ look. The one that was begging for me to just lay there and hold him, to just stay a little longer – "

"And you got scared and ran out?"

"I just needed to get out of there before I made another mistake," Eric told him. "It wouldn't have happened if we were sober. We were too drunk to really understand it, so it was a mistake. And I'm going to talk to him about it tonight because I don't want to lead him on,"

John didn't say anything for a few moments and it made Eric's throat close up. "Well…you kind of already did. You know, since you let it happen twice. If you had only done it once, it might be excusable, but when you let the second time slip in…" he paused. "I'm not trying to put you down, but…well…you messed up,"

"Well, I wasn't the only one there," Eric was quick to reply. "Michael was there too. He didn't have to let it happen again,"

"Who did who in what order?" John asked.

Eric paused. "I did him first…he did me next. It was his idea,"

Another pause filled the phone. "Well…it is kind of up in the air then. You could have told him no, but he didn't have to have the idea. Hmm…I don't know what you want me to say,"

"Say I wasn't wrong," Eric suggested. "Say that I'm not a bad person for going over there last night, or for sleeping with him. I really didn't think this would happen…I thought we were going to drink and have a good laugh and…I know I messed up. But please say that I'm not a bad person,"

"_Well, tell him, John,_" Terry's voice said in the background.

John cleared his throat. "Eric, you're not a bad person at all, for anything you've done, unless you happened to stab a homeless person on your way to the pub, or beat up a nun in the alley outside. However, you're not supposed to sleep with someone when you know they've been drinking as heavily as he was. That's something that a man of the law would construed as rape, regardless of whether or not they give you permission. So you probably shouldn't do that anymore,"

"There are a lot of things that I probably shouldn't do, but I always end up doing them anyway," Eric glanced at his watch, then up at the window of Michael's apartment building. "I'm going home now. I need to take a shower because I feel disgusting for not bathing after last night. I can still feel the alcohol swimming in my veins,"

Terry's voice sounded out. "_Don't forget the Vaseline for your – _"

"Oh, hush," John told him.

Eric groaned. "You two are disgusting. I swear, I'm very glad that I never got involved with either of you. With your anti-social behavior and that repulsive purple vase every day – "

"Oh, would you just forget about the purple vase?" John replied.

"_What is he saying_ – "

John and Eric both chose to ignore him. "Do you want to go have breakfast after you shower?" John asked. "Or lunch? Late breakfast, early lunch, a snack, what have you…"

Eric glanced back up at the window, still seeing no sign of Michael. "No, I'll just go home. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know how tonight goes. Do you think he'll be too mad at me?"

"You'll have to wait and see. Just tell him the truth and apologize, and promise your everlasting friendship,"

"…And you think you're not _gay_," Eric replied, and hung up the phone.

* * *

><p>Although the sex was still fresh on their minds, both Eric and Michael tried to keep themselves as busy as possible for the rest of the day, to avoid going back to any of it. Trips to the post office and the grocery store, the bookstore and a walk around the park kept them occupied, until it was time for them to meet for dinner. As he brushed his teeth, Michael thought about how he would say what was on his mind. <em>We shouldn't have done it. We were too drunk and things just got out of hand.<em>

_I hope you don't think that I was taking advantage of you, _Eric played out the words in his head as he buttoned up his clean shirt.

_I want us to be friends._

_I want things to not get weird between us._

…_Although…it was really nice…_

_I wouldn't mind if it would happen again._

_No. No, Michael, it was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened. Friends that close don't do things like that together. You have to tell him it was wrong of you two and that it was a mistake._

_You're stupid, Eric. How could you let that happen? With your closest friend? You've completely ruined everything – the possibility of a show together, being good friends, the holidays…_

_Now say it – it was a mistake._

_It was a mistake._

_I hope he says it first…_

…_I hope I die before I get to the restaurant…_


	9. Chapter Nine

When they met at the restaurant, the atmosphere between them was very stiff and unwelcoming as they were seated at the table by a large window and gave their drink orders to the waiter. They opened their menus and tried to find something to eat, but they kept gazing over the sections of main courses at each other. "Everything sounds good," Michael said quietly as he tried to sound normal.

"It does sound good," Eric replied in a similar tone.

Silence settled between them again, and Michael tried to continue the conversation. "How was your day?"

Eric shrugged. "It was alright. Slept all morning, did a few things at home. Finished the sketches I started last night. How was yours?"

"It was the same," Michael said. He tried to concentrate on the menu, looking over the soups and salads and desserts, but he kept looking at Eric over the top of it. It seemed as if Eric was able to forget about the whole thing completely and immerse himself in deciding what he wanted to eat. _How could dinner be more important than sex? _Michael lowered his menu slowly. _I wonder if he's as much of a nervous wreck as I am…_

The waiter came to back with their drinks and took their food orders. Conversation from the other tables drifted into the silence that surrounded their table, as well as obnoxious laughter and cigarette smoke, and they began to talk of other things that didn't involve the night before. Auditions, sketches that they were writing separately to bring together with their friends for a possible upcoming show, housework, Michael's cats, the newest songs on the radio, and the lives of their friends was carelessly discussed between the two. Finally, the waiter returned with their plates and their stomachs began to growl hungrily. "About time," Eric took up his silverware and began to eat. "Delicious."

Michael did the same, but he couldn't taste anything as he put the food in his mouth. He felt himself becoming more anxious, like he did as a schoolboy when he had to give a speech in front of his entire class. "Eric?" he felt his lips move. "We need to talk about it."

Eric wanted to keep his fork moving from his plate to his mouth, but the tone of his friend's voice was serious and he stopped eating to look Michael in the eye. He didn't have to ask what the topic was. "What about it?"

"About what happened…" Michael paused to gather his thoughts. "Now…don't get me wrong, because I'm not saying that the sex wasn't good, because it was good…wonderful, in fact. But we both know…it…it shouldn't have happened,"

The words slowly dribbled out of his mouth, as he really didn't want to say it. However, Eric seemed to agree with him. "You're right, it was a mistake. We were too drunk and we had no idea what was going on…the sex was great. Both times, in fact, were amazing…but it was a mistake, I concur with you,"

"You do?" Michael asked, putting down his menu slowly. "You're sure that you feel that way?"

"What are you getting at?"

There was something about what Eric said that made Michael feel strange, but he didn't want to peruse it and make the evening more awkward that in was bound to become. "Never mind," he muttered and his gaze settled on his hands, which were folded in his lap and he began to pick at a hangnail on his thumb. It was the calm, unconcerned attitude that Eric had that made Michael feel uncomfortable. The way he was speaking, saying that he agreed – _concurred_ – with Michael just seemed strange. Well, if it was such a mistake, then why did it happen? And when did he realize it was a mistake? "What was the mistake? The first time we had sex, or the second time?" he asked.

Eric looked up from his plate. "Neither time. Where did you get that idea?"

"Oh, just…you said that you agreed it was a mistake. So I was just wondering when you realized it was a mistake," Michael reached across the table with his fork and picked off of Eric's plate. "The first time we had sex or the second time we had sex? Hm…that is pretty good,"

It was then that Eric realized he was trapped either way he went with this discussion. "…You said it first," Eric accused.

"Yes, but didn't have to agree with me," Michael shot back. "You could have said that it wasn't a mistake,"

"Oh, well, I didn't realize that sex had to be so serious and not casual at all," Eric replied. "I didn't know that people couldn't just…just have a few drinks and have a quick fuck and not worry about being involved,"

Michael groaned. "That sounds so stupid. Do you realize how stupid that sounds? So all you were interested in was a one night stand?"

Eric shook his head. "I wasn't interested in sex at all. I was there to support you and get you out of the slump you were in when I found you on the floor of the pub, crying for Helen,"

"I was _not_ crying! And of course you were interested in sex, you always are."

"I'm not the one who started the whole thing. Kissing me and climbing on top of me – "

"_You_ unbuttoned my shirt!"

"_You_ took my pants off and put my – "

His words were cut off by the quick appearance of the waiter. "Is everything alright with your dinner tonight?"

The two were glaring at each other and it was becoming clear that they were eager to end this night. "Everything is fine," Michael dismissed the waiter with his words of approval and a wave of his hand. "Eric, you did all sorts of things to me and I did it back! So once again, I'll ask you – when did you realize it was a mistake?"

"Right after I came the first time," Eric blurted out. And when those words came out and he saw the look that was growing on Michael's face, Eric knew that he had made another big mistake. "Mike, I didn't mean it. I really – "

"Waiter!" Michael's arm shot up in the air and he waved his hand in the direction of their waiter, who looked back at him startled. "I'm ready to leave now!" he pushed his chair back and threw his napkin down on the table, then stood up, glaring at Eric. "After you _came_…well, thank you so much for all the bullshit you've put me through. As a thank you for the great time tonight, Eric, I'll let you can take care of my half of the bill,"

Eric started to push himself up from his chair, but the waiter was at the table side in a moment and was blocking him from getting out. "Mike, can you just wait?" he called out to his angry friend, who was walking away. "Mike? Mike!" he kept calling out, but Michael was walking out. "Damn it. Here – " he opened his wallet and shoved some money into the waiter's hand, and pushed himself out of the situation and ran after Michael.

Michael was standing outside at the sidewalk, waving into the street for a cab to stop in front of him. "Eric, I don't want to talk to you right now. You said some very offensive things and I'm mad at you. So just leave me alone,"

"Can't I just explain?" Eric begged. "I didn't mean – "

"That's right, you didn't mean anything," Michael said as a cab stopped in front of him and he reached for the door. "Goodbye, Eric," he stepped into the cab and gave directions, and it sped off before Eric could say anything. And as it drove off down the busy street, Eric wondered what he had gotten himself into.

* * *

><p>It had been Terry's idea to have a party to announce his six month love for John. Parties weren't really John's thing, but when he saw how excited Terry got about the idea, he sighed and agreed to a small gathering of dinner and friends. So Terry spent a few weeks organizing the party with Michael and Terry G's help. He gave Terry a job of the color theme, and gave Michael the job of choosing invitations. "I really don't like any of these," Terry J was telling them.<p>

"Well, L7 isn't so bad," Michael flipped to the page to show his friends. "M3 and O12 aren't awful,"

On the table next to the invitation book was Terry's guest list, written in his scribble. Michael picked it up and it unfolded into a long list of names, and right on the fold was Eric's name. "Are Graham and David coming?" Michael asked as he refolded the paper.

"Mhm," Terry murmured distractedly.

"Anyone else?"

Both Terrys glanced at each other, knowing what Michael was asking. "Eric will be there,"

Michael tried to act surprised. "Oh, will he? That's great, I thought he was busy. Is he bringing someone?"

"I think he's bringing some girl he met somewhere," Terry J tried to act as if he wasn't interested in the conversation. "We met her the other night when we saw them at the pub,"

Michael was also acting as if he didn't care. "What does she look like?"

"Hm…pretty, thin, with big tits…the basic nightmare to any girl," Terry looked at Michael, giggling to himself at the disappointed look on his friend's face. "But I'm sure it doesn't bother you, since you're not _any girl_,"

"Very funny," Michael walked away. "It doesn't bother me…really. He can do whatever he wants, see whoever he wants. I can't tell him what to do, and I don't care what he does," he paused in the middle of the room, where he found a squeak in the floorboard and he thought about how unconvincing he sounded. "Has he asked about me?"

"No," both Terrys replied.

Michael turned back to his friends, who weren't looking at him. They just kept going through the pages of the napkin book. "Well, good," he finally said.

"It's alright for you to be jealous, Mike. We understand, it's perfectly natural," Terry J told him. "You two had a thing and now it's over – "

"But I'm not jealous," Michael protested. "In fact, I'm completely disgusted with him and his behavior. I mean, who does he think he is? Eric is the most obnoxious, selfish person I've ever met in my life – "

"Then why are you so interested in Eric's life? Why are you oh-so-casually asking about him and people he's involved with?" Terry G asked; there wasn't a response. "You both said the same thing, and you both were being honest with each other about what happened. Yes, the truth hurts, but there is no reason for you two to be fighting,"

Michael shrugged. "I guess I just didn't expect him to feel the same. I was hoping he would say that it wasn't a mistake. He didn't have to agree,"

"But you said it, and he did agree with you, and it's already out there. You can't take it back, so even if you could, you both already know how the other feels," Terry G continued. "There are only two things you can do – you can one, let it bother you and you two can continue being jackasses towards each other and completely ruin your friendship – "

"Or two, you can kiss and make up and not be jackasses towards each other at my party," Terry J added. "Because if either of you ruin it, I will be very upset with both of you and we will never speak again,"

Both Terrys watched as Michael made a face that appeared to be considering his two options. "I guess I can _try_ to be…civil to him," Michael said slowly, as if tasting the words to see if they were worth saying. "Alright, I'll do it for you and John, Terry. For the sake of you two and your party,"

Terry smiled cheerfully at him. "Thank you, Mike. I really appreciate it."

* * *

><p>John and Terry's party was at the downtown dining hall on 26th Street. At least thirty other people were in attendance, including friends and co-workers, and even Delilah and her husband. The happy expressions on the lover's faces couldn't be bothered by anything, even though small details were turning up bad. Like how the cloth napkins were colored deep orange with bronze napkin rings, instead of deep red with bronze napkin rings, for the fall weather. Or how the salmon was slightly over cooked, or how the wine wasn't the right kind at all. Neither of them seemed to notice and continued making their way around the room, right past Eric. He kept looking around trying to act nonchalant as he didn't want to appear to be avoiding Michael. Ever since dinner that night, he had been avoiding any places that Michael could be, and not ignoring the phone because Michael had taken to calling him all the time. Eric just couldn't bring himself to talk to Michael. "I really am a great friend," he muttered to himself sarcastically.<p>

With a sigh that expressed how disgusted he was with himself, he turned to his right to see Michael no more than five feet away. Startled, he almost dropped his wine glass when Michael looked at him, equally startled to see Eric so close to him in a room full of party guests. "Hi Eric," he stepped towards him.

_Oh God please don't…_Eric thought, and turned forward nervously as he tried to avoid Michael's eye line. "How are you? How…was your dinner? Nice party, huh?" he tried to think of things to say.

"Fine, everything's fine," Michael peered around Eric to try and see his face. "Anything new going on?"

Eric turned back to look at Michael, prepared to be honest. "I really don't want to talk right now, Mike. We're here for John and Terry, not ourselves,"

"Talk about what? I'm just asking how you're doing. I told Terry that I wouldn't bring up that night and I would try to be civil to you," Michael replied as if nothing was wrong, but he changed his tone quickly. "But since we're on the subject, I have to say that you said some very low things to me after what we did,"

"Do we really have to discuss this now?" Eric demanded. "Honestly, why are you still dragging this around? It happened three weeks ago,"

Michael's jaw dropped in shock. "It doesn't matter how long ago it happened, because it _did_ happen. We had sex three weeks ago, _two times_!"

Eric handed off his empty glass to a waiter, then turned back to Michael. "You know how a year to a person is like seven years to a dog?"

"Are you calling me a dog?" Michael's eyes opened wide in realization after a long pause.

"Well, you were begging for a bone in your mouth," Eric replied.

Michael's face flushed pink with aggravation. "_What the hell is wrong with you_? I thought you really cared about me! Instead, we fuck twice and you run out, then tell me it was a mistake and give some sorry ass apology? And now you're acting like you don't even want to see me,"

"That's not it at all," Eric tried to explain. "I feel like I used you because I went to the pub and you were drunk and I got drunk, and then you wanted to show me Helen's naked pictures and then you just looked at me with those big beautiful sad eyes, and told me I was a great friend and…and it just happened. It was a mistake,"

"The worst mistake I ever made," Michael agreed. "You did use me, you selfish dick. All you wanted was to get off and I was the nearest thing for you to put your dick in. Forget the sketches, forget the show, and forget everything that had ever happened with us. Fuck you."

As Michael turned to walk away, Eric tried to bite his tongue, but the words spilled out anyway. "Well, you already did, and it was lousy. I'm sure your lack of sperm wasn't the real reason that Helen left you,"

Michael turned around quickly and it was in that moment, out of all the moments that they had known each other and the moments they would know each other, that Eric thought Michael was capable of showing the real human emotion of rage. The combination of incredibly sensitive subjects created a cloud of wrath that poured through Michael's eyes, they became furious; his shoulders squared and stiffened like a brick wall; Eric could see Michael's hands clutching into tight fists that were preparing to fly into Eric until he was a mass of pulp. In response, Eric began to tighten his own fists and he inhaled, in case it was the last breath he was able to take on his own, and he waited. "Say that again," Michael's voice struggled to stay steady.

Eric paused, not sure as to if he should say his line and just let Michael fly at him, completely enraged, or if he should just walk away. He felt his own hands curling up and he opened his mouth, ready to let words come out, but that was when John and Terry stood in the middle of the room, tapping their glasses with forks to get everyone's attention on them. "I'd like to thank all of your friends for this night, for their help in putting this all together. Especially Michael and Eric, without whom this wouldn't be possible."


	10. Chapter Ten

Although that event ended on a bad note, the next few days were better. They were quiet and peaceful, and within the week, the streets were coated with a blanket of snow. But it didn't prevent Michael from feeling more cheerful that he no longer had this distraction in his life, knowing that he could focus on auditions and the upcoming holidays, until the phone began to ring. And he knew exactly who was on the other end, and that's why he didn't pick up. "Well, go answer the phone, why don't you?" Graham asked him one night as they were eating dinner in Michael's apartment.

"No way," Michael replied, sitting back in his chair. "I have this feeling its Eric…he's started calling me again,"

"Well, just answer the phone and tell him to stop calling, and he won't bother you anymore," David told him.

"That would only encourage him to keep calling me,"

The answering machine beeped and Eric's voice spoke through the apartment, loud enough for all three of them to hear. "Hi, Mike, it's me. _Again_. I'm just calling to let you know that I went Christmas shopping – got you something – and I went to look at clothes and I saw some button down blue shirts. Of course, I know you already have about four hundred of them, but what would four hundred and twelve hurt?" he laughed. "By the way, I don't know if you heard about the play I auditioned for. They called me and want me to be in it, so if you're interested, I'll save a ticket for you. I'll be playing a man who works at a lingerie store and one day, the store is held up by a robber, but it turns out that the store doesn't have very much money in it and – oh, and that reminds me, do you – "

As the words filled the room and what was left of the tape, Michael could feel stares from his dinner guests as they chewed and over the tops of their glasses, and he couldn't take it anymore. With a bite of food in his mouth, he pushed himself up from the table, letting his napkin fall off his lap to the floor. He reached the phone in a few steps and grasped it in his hand to pull up to his ear. "Eric?"

"Mike, hi," Eric replied with surprise stated clearly in his voice. "Uh…hi. What are you doing?"

"I'm eating dinner with Graham and David,"

"Well, how nice. What are you having?"

Michael knew his dinner guests were eavesdropping, from the way they were awfully quiet with the gently clinking of silverware on plates, and he tried to keep his voice low and calm. "What do you want, Eric?" he asked.

Eric laughed at him as if it was obvious. "I called to tell you about the play, silly. Are you going to be there?"

The sound of food being swallowed and traveling down Michael's throat echoed in his mind. "I'm not interested."

"What do you mean you're not interested? You always go to my shows, and I to yours. Remember when you did the one about the group of men being trained against attacking fruit?"

"I remember, and I'm not interested. I have too much going on with…" Michael glanced around for something that he could claim he was busy with. Unfortunately, all that was within reaching distance was his cat that was asleep on his jacket in the chair, a full ashtray, a sticker with a recycling logo on it, and other things. He couldn't pick just one.

"Alright, I understand," Eric let out a defeated sigh, not buying the unfinished excuse.

It was like they both were waiting for the other to say something, for Michael to change his mind about the play and say he would gladly go or for Eric to say he was sorry for calling Michael a dog and talking bad about him being sterile. But there was nothing, until Michael cleared his throat. "Well, Eric, I have to go – "

"Wait, wait," Eric interrupted. "What are you doing this weekend?"

"I'm busy,"

"Not too busy for me, are you? Come on, Michael, we had a fight and it's over. Let's just forget it,"

As easy as it sounded, Michael really just wanted to punch him in his face through the phone, then continue eating his dinner and forgetting that this whole thing just happened. How was it so easy for Eric to be over it like it was nothing? "I really need to go, Eric,"

"Mike, I'm over this. Why can't you be?"

"You called me a _dog_. In front of everyone, all of our friends and their family, _after_ you used me," Michael reminded him. "Why shouldn't I be mad?"

Eric sighed on the other end of the line and changed the subject. "I really wish you would consider coming to my play, Mike. It would mean a lot to me. The opening night is after New Year's so you have time to reconsider and let me know,"

Once more – "I need to go now. Goodbye, Eric," Michael said quietly and hung up the phone.

* * *

><p>The weeks of winter would file by slowly after the fight, leaving the group of friends scattered without their project to keep them together. It was too awkward to try and keep them in the same room with the tension between Eric and Michael, as either of them would leave the room at the sight, or breeze of soap and cologne, or mere mentioning of the other. Any chance meetings that happened were quickly dismissed, until one day at the grocery store, where Michael was with Terry G, filling up a cart with his weekly groceries. Terry was planning a party for Christmas, and that was only one week away. "You'll come to the party, won't you?" he asked Michael, marking the last few items off of his list.<p>

"Yes, I'll be there," Michael agreed. "I'll even be there early to make sure everything is set up right – silverware, plates, the caterers…this is something I need to do, because I need a distraction from everything going on,"

Terry picked up two boxes of pasta to compare the noodles. "Have you talked to the person you needed a distraction from lately?"

Michael peered at the boxes over Terry's shoulder, and chose for him. "Not since that run in at the post office, where I had to get out of the line that I had been in for twenty minutes,"

"You didn't have to get out of the line. You could have just stayed in it, and not talked to him," Terry replied. "Although I think you two should just apologize and get over this stupid fight you're having. So you had sex and things didn't work out – you both said it was a mistake. How many times have you had sex with someone and not dated them?"

"He used me, Terry," Michael replied. "How many times have you been used or used someone?"

Terry gestured to behind Michael. "Speaking of which…"

Michael spun around to see that Terry was talking about the tall, thin man walking down their aisle, looking at the boxes of crackers. "Shit!" Michael tried to move past Terry, away from the situation, but his friend blocked him.

"You need to grow up already," Terry told him.

"Oh, look who it is," Eric's voice spoke over the pouting look Michael had. "How are you, boys?"

"We're just getting food for the week and some stuff for the party," Terry told him. "You're going to be there too, right?" he didn't see Michael's head whip around to shoot a glare in his direction. "I wasn't sure you'd be able to make it, I hadn't heard back from you. But I know you're busy,"

Michael couldn't hold it in. "You invited him?"

Eric and Terry both had an amused look on their faces at the sound of Michael's harsh whisper, although Eric's expression was a bit more twisted. "What's wrong, Mike? Didn't you know I was invited?" Eric asked as he resting his hand held basket on top of the push cart.

The frustrated look on Michael's face went to Terry, who held up his hands in confusion, as he didn't see anything wrong with what had happened. "You can't expect me to not invite him," Terry said quietly. "He's my friend too. That would be rude of me,"

"So you're picking him over me?" Michael demanded, not realizing how childish he sounded. "Really, Terry? After all the years we've known each other and all that we've been through? Because if you do, then I won't go,"

_This is so stupid,_ Terry thought as he rolled his eyes and turned away from the growing annoyance between his friends. He realized then how out of control this whole thing was getting, and he couldn't understand why these two couldn't just put aside their differences for one night and both go to his party? "You would do that, Michael?" Eric asked, wondering how serious Michael was, and how far he could push this. "You would really not go to Terry's party if I was there?"

Michael had been bluffing. The idea of him skipping out on Terry's event was ridiculous, as he threw incredible parties that were talked about for months. He could see himself in his nicest attire, surrounded by party guests and laughing at something that Terry J was saying, waiters sliding in with champagne and appetizers on silver trays. Then Eric would grab him by the wrist and they would playfully glide together across the wood floor in front of their friends, dancing shaven cheek to shaven cheek, laughing and talking, pausing under the mistletoe, where Eric would dip him and pretend to smother Michael's face and neck with drunken kisses, and…and he realized that he was thinking of last year. Last year, when they had gone together because they were single men…he knew he couldn't stand to see Eric there with someone else, not now. "I wouldn't," he finally decided.

Terry looked exceedingly disappointed, and Eric was confused with Michael's decision. "Well, then…" he paused to let his face turn to excitement, and he picked up his basket. "I'll see you at your party, Terry,"

He turned around and walked away, as Michael gasped in shock, finding Eric's words to be selfish. "_Can you believe him?"_ he grabbed the handle of the cart and pushed it down the aisle, passing other things that they needed. "That asshole! And you – " he glared at Terry over his shoulder. "How could you not say anything? I thought you were on my side."

"I'm on no one's side," Terry replied. "I've already said everything that I think should happen and if you don't want to listen to me, that's your choice. And I think you're being stupid to not come to my party just because he will be there,"

"I just said I wouldn't show up to your party! I can't just show up after I said I wouldn't," Michael curved the car around the aisle and up towards the registers. "I could be having a great night with all of you, and instead I'll be in my bed, with the cat and reruns on the television, then sleeping. Alone."

"If you don't want to be alone, then why don't you come?" Terry demanded. "Why don't you tell him that you want to go with him and be with him at my party, having a great time with all of us instead of your cat?"

Michael started taking things out of the cart and laying them on the counter. "Because I would look stupid. How dumb would it be for me to arrive at your house that night and start telling him that we should be together and that sex with him was the greatest experience of my life and that every time I think of him, I want – "

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Terry held up his hands. "I don't want to know all the secrets. But I think you should say tell him these things,"

"I can't do that. We've both already moved on and there's nothing we can do to go back. I'm done trying to fix this," Michael finished the conversation, his voice defeated.

And that was how he ended up lying across his bed that night, the TV remote in his hand, a bag of chips next to him and his cat on the other side. He had found a late Saturday night variety show, and although it was funny, he kept imagining ways to make it better. _Eric would know how to make it better,_ he thought, and dug into the chip bag for another handful. The taste was dry and bland, and the texture was of sawdust as he chewed through it. He started thinking of the party and the food that Terry had told him that was being served, the enchanting Christmas décor, all the people that would be there –

"_I didn't like you when we first met,"_

"_I know. I didn't really like you either, you were very unsocial. And you still didn't like me the second time we met,"_

"_Well, you just kept annoying everyone at the auditions. You were being too social and…"_

Michael turned the TV off and pushed himself up from the bed, and his cat rolled into his place, meowing in protest. He was bored of television and the thought of being alone for the night was making him feel irritable, and he thought about going down to the pub for a bit. A few drinks would put him in a better mood, so he put on his coat and left the apartment, deciding to walk the five blocks to the pub. As he walked in the cold, snowy weather, the thoughts continued to build up about the party. Maybe Terry was right – maybe he was being ridiculous. After all, not every time people have sex, it meant that they would end up together. Maybe they were being _too_ silly and they could just move on from the whole thing, and continue on as planned and write a show together. They could overcome this obstacle, this issue, this…_mistake_…a great, grand, wonderful mistake." What am I doing?" he asked himself, ambling across the street closer to the bar. "Why can't I just get over him?"

"_That was nice,"_

"_It was."_

When he reached the pub, he took the handle of the door and tried to open it, and that was when he saw the CLOSED sign in the window. The pub wasn't even open? _Fuck_, Michael thought, kicking the door and turning away from the building. With a defeated sigh, he knew where his mind wanted to direct him, even if he was just going to stand outside of the party and look at the windows.

"_If we eat together, are we becoming friends?"_

"_Scary, isn't it?"_

From outside of the building where the party was, it seemed completely out of control, and he wished that he was inside enjoying it. Slowly, Michael walked up the concrete steps to the inside of the building, which was full of people and he was nearly knocked over by a waiter with a large tray of drinks. Looking around, he found that he didn't recognize anyone in the red and white themed room, lit up with tiny holiday lights and greenery on each table setting. Michael moved deeper into the room, continuing the search for anyone that he knew and he glanced through the crowd, suddenly spotting Terry G with Vic and Carol. Terry glanced in his direction and there was a brief look of surprise, and then he smiled and excused himself. The two friends stood before each other and finally Michael spoke. "I thought I wasn't going to be able to make it, but I changed some things around. I'm sorry I'm late,"

"Well, I'm glad you could make it. Hurry up and get something to eat before it's all gone," Terry gestured to the table in the other room.

"Thanks," Michael accepted Terry's encouraging pat on the shoulder, and continued into the party. He grazed by the table and looked over the food, but decided that he would continue on in the party. Michael kept his eyes open for Eric in the room of Terry's friends – it was almost as bad as one of those terrible games of _Where's Waldo_, the pages that he had seen children pouring over for hours in search of this man with in a striped sweater and hat and glasses that looked like Neil. He kept seeing people he knew, although it seemed as if the party was couples only and very few singles. He passed by Terry and John, who were still so deeply in love that they didn't even see Michael. Neil was too busy flirting with a very attractive redhead, and Carol was with her date and they managed to wave to him. Maybe Eric hadn't shown up as he had threatened…or maybe he would come into the room, talking to Graham and they both saw Michael at the same time. Graham dismissed himself and when he turned away from them, it was as if Eric and Michael were the only two people in the room.

It was now or never – Michael had to make a move, or this whole night would be in vain, and he walked through the party guests to Eric. "Hi," he said.

"Hi," Eric replied.

Michael paused to look Eric up and down, thinking about how good he looked when he dressed up. "So I was thinking that…maybe what happened was a not mistake and that you and I have been acting stupid lately, especially me. However, I really care about you and I think that we could just forget everything and be together,"

"You think so?" Eric asked, with uncertainty on his face.

"Yeah…I think so…don't you?"

"Well, I don't really know what I want right now."

His answer was honest, yet disappointing to Michael. "Really? After the way you've been acting, you don't know what you want? It's clear that you want me, the way you've been calling me every day and following me everywhere. Why can't we just do it?"

"Because it's clear that you don't want anything to do with me. You've ignored my phone calls and when I do talk to you, it's like you'd rather jump off a building than communicate. Anytime I see you, you turn around and walk in the opposite direction. You even told Terry that you weren't coming to his party because I was going to be here."

"You said that us being together that night was a mistake and you called me a dog! I was mad at you!" Michael protested. "But I don't want to be anymore because I care too much. Terry was right, we need to grow up and just admit how we feel and take it from there. So I'll just say it, Eric, I love you."

Relief washed over him as he was finally saying the words he had wanted to say for the past week, maybe even longer. However, relief was not on Eric's face, as he was still looking at Michael in disbelief. "And how am I supposed to respond to that?"

Was it not obvious? "You could say that you love me," Michael replied slowly. "Doesn't anything I just said mean anything to you? Why can't we just make things work out?"

"Because nothing works out like that, Mike," Eric explained.

"How about it works like this? I love you. I love that the first time we met, I didn't like you, and I didn't like you again five years later, and then sort of liked you five years after that. I love how gregarious you are to the point that it annoys people. I love that it takes you an hour and half to get ready to go anywhere. I love that I can smell your cologne on me after spending the day together. I love that I'd rather hold your hand than look at those pictures any day of the week. I love that you being the cocky bastard that you are completely turns me on. And I love that not sleeping next to you these past few weeks has made me so miserable that we had to fight for me to realize that I want to be with you, and I want that to start tonight."

The words floated around their heads like a thought bubble in a cartoon, and they were both silent for a few moments, as if absorbing those words. Michael was waiting for Eric to respond in some sort of way, whether it was a hit to the face or an enthusiastic kiss and an 'I love you too', or even if he just turned around and walked away, and they never spoke again. Some sort of response – "You're an asshole," Eric finally said. "You are the biggest asshole I've ever met. You go around acting like you don't care about someone and then turn around and say that you love them, and you can't do that. My feelings aren't something for you to play with, and you did, and that makes me hate you,"

"…I'm sorry?" Michael tried.

"That makes me really hate you," Eric shook his head disapprovingly, anger still across his face. But there was something about the way his eyes looked at Michael, the way they were becoming softer and less disappointed in Michael's previous behavior. And when he repeated himself – "It makes me really, _really_ hate you…" – Michael knew that Eric was willing to forgive him, and it was proven when he smiled softly, one that was so shy and nervous and thrilled all at the same time.

"You really hate me?" Michael tested Eric's emotions.

Eric nodded, although it was halfhearted. "More than you'll ever know," he replied, and he took Michael by the shoulders and pulled him close to kiss him.

The moment was better than any fantasy either of them could imagine. It was seconds that were given to the kiss that signaled everything was alright between them, that the wait for the past years was well worth it. The kiss ended and they parted, knowing that all of their friends were watching them. "What do you think they'll have to say about this?" Michael asked.

"Probably something about how we're quite the idiots and maybe something about getting a room," Eric thought. "And just so you know, that's something I wouldn't mind doing for the holiday, if that's alright with you. What are you doing this week?"

"I don't have any plans,"

"Let's go to France for the week. I'll arrange transportation tomorrow, and you can have escargot when we get there,"

"Oh, _please_. I hate snails,"

"You still don't like them? Michael, I don't know how you don't like them,"

"It's _disgusting_ – " Michael started to explain, but it didn't matter how he felt about the issue at hand, because Eric liked him regardless and kissed him again.

* * *

><p>"<em>The first time we met, he didn't like me at all. I still don't know why<em> –"

"_You were bothering me while I was trying to prepare for the audition. And I still didn't like you the second time we met_."

"_Why was that_?"

"_I don't remember. But the third time we met, Eric, I liked you better, and we became friends. We were very good friends._"

"_We were very good friends for a long time…and then we were in love_."

"_We were stupidly in love, but we didn't want to ruin anything so we acted like it was a mistake to be involved and there was a huge fight_ – "

"_A huge fight, like World War II. But eventually we made up._"

"_I moved in with Eric a month after. All of our friends helped move my things over, all my books and furniture and the cat_ – "

"_Oh, God, that cat…_"

"_You like my cat! Don't lie about it, I see you pick him up and hold him. And you always buy him better food than I do_."

**THE END**


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